LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


THE 


CREOLE  ORPHANS; 


OR, 


ts  attfy  Sljaktos  of  j$<mthern  |Tife 


A  TALE    OF    LOUISIANA, 


BY 


JAMES    S.     PEACOCKE,   M.  D. 


OF     MISSISSIPPI. 

^ 


'f 

NEW    YORK: 
DERBY   &  JACKSON,   119   NASSAU  STREET. 

CINCINNATI  : — H.   W.    DERBY. 
1856. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Cor.gress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 

J.    C.    DERBY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court,  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED  BY 

THOMAS  B.  SMITH, 
82  &  84  Beekman  Street 


THE  CREOLE  ORPHANS, 


CHAPTER   I. 

TT  was  morning  in  the  tropics ;  a  bright  and  sunny 
-*-  day  in  Kingston.  The  soft  breeze  came  sweeping 
across  the  bay,  and  wafted  the  scent  of  a  thousand 
beds  of  flowers  toward  the  city,  till  the  very  air 
seemed  heavy  with  aromatic  softness.  The  crowd  was 
moving  with  characteristic  laziness  along  the  awning- 
covered  street,  and  the  cafes  and  restaurants  were 
receiving  their  daily  influx  of  visitors,  of  many  na 
tions  and  languages. 

Among  them  might  be  observed  a  noble-looking 
gentleman,  who,  sauntering  quietly  along,  and  appar 
ently  without  any  other  especial  object  than  to  kill 
time,  turned  into  one  of  those  gorgeously  fitted-up 
saloons  which  are  most  frequented  by  the  English  and 
Americans. 

Giving  himself  up  to  the  favorite  habit  of  so  many 
of  our  countrymen,  he  threw  himself  into  a  large  arm 
chair,  of  which  there  were  many  standing  about  on 
the  nicely-sanded  floor,  and  turned  his  inquiring  gaze 
around.  There  were  many  like  himself  seated,  silently 
smoking,  and,  to  all  appearance,  having  no  more  to  do 


4  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

than  he.  The  attentive  waiter  suddenly  came  toward 
him  and  handed  him  the  morning  paper.  He  was 
soon  absorbed  in  its  contents.  Kapidly  his  eye 
glanced  over  its  columns,  and  he  was  about  to  throw 
it  aside,  when  the  following  notice  attracted  his  atten 
tion.  It  was  at  the  end  of  an  auction  advertisement. 

"  There  will  also  be  soldt  at  the  same  time  and  place,  a 
beautiful  Quadroon  girl  of  sixteen  years.  She  is  a  superior 
sempstress  and  hair-dresser." 

"  I  will  go  and  see  this  paragon,"  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  laid  down  the  sheet ;  and,  rising,  he  walked  to  the 
door  with  a  wearied  air. 

Eleven  o'clock,  and  the  commercial  Exchange.  Its 
capacious  rooms  were  the  daily  resort  of  the  man  of 
business  and  the  man  of  leisure,  of  those  who  had 
property  to  dispose  of,  and  those  who  wished  to  be 
come  purchasers.  Here  was  the  meeting-place ;  here 
were  the  sales  of  slaves  and  other  valuable  property  ; 
the*  distribution  of  successions,  and  the  receptacle  of 
news  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  .  The  individual, 
whom  we  have  noticed,  entered  the  doors  of  the  build 
ing  with  the  throng  and  cast  his  eyes  around.  The 
sale  of  landed  property  had  commenced,  but  he 
heeded  it  slightly.  At  length  the  slaves  were  put  up 
for  sale.  This  attracted  him  but  little.  The  auctioneer 
paused. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed,  "  here  we  have 
something  to  bid  on  ;  a  nice  parcel  of  goods,  and  such 
a  one  as  you  don't  'get  every  day.  Come,  hand  her 
up  !  A  beautiful  Quadroon  girl,  fit  for  a  lady's  maid, 
or  traveling  companion.  Ha!  ha!  Who  will  bid? 
Who  won't  bid?  Here  she  is,"  he  -added,  as  he  re 
ceived,  from  a  dark  aperture  behind  the  stand,  the  light 
form  of  a  female,  who  was  shoved  violently  forward 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  O 

by  some  unseen  hand.  She  was  clothed  in  a  plain 
black  dress,  and,  as  she  advanced,  was  evidently  weep 
ing  violently,  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands.  The 
vendor  ordered  her  to  look  up.  She  obeyed  him  with 
a  shudder,  and  gazed  around.  She  was  young  and 
fair,  but  pale  ;  and  her  eyes  were  swollen  with  weeping. 
Pallid  and  tottering,  she  stood  before  the  multitude, 
who  hushed  their  conversation,  struck  by  her  exceed 
ing  beauty.  Another  moment,  and  a  universal  mur 
mur  arose  from  the  assembly,  as  they  looked  upon  her 
in  wonder  and  curiosity.  She  trembled  violently,  and 
then  her  countenance  exhibited  the  most  intense  men 
tal  anguish,  as  she  stood  the  inspection  of  the  crowd 
of  upturned  faces ;  and  several  times  she  seemed  on 
the  point  of  crying  out  with  concealed  agony. 

Surprise  rooted  the  multitude  to  the  spot;  they 
knew  not  what  to  think ;  yet  there  was  the  owner,  a 
heavy,  thickset  man,  with  a  ferocious  countenance  and 
a  glaring  eye,  which  seemed  to  exercise  a  basilisk 
influence  over  the  poor  girl,  who,  every  now  and 
then,  stole  a  glance  of  terror  toward  him.  She  was 
unlike  a  slave  ;  yet  there  was  her  master,  (she  did  not 
deny  him),  the  vendor ;  and,  above  all,  there  was  the 
pure,  rich  olive  complexion  of  the  quadroon.  She  is  a 
slave,  and  is  here  for  sale,  for  she  denies  it  not.  Yet  she 
is  lighter  in  color  than  the  Indian  Quadroons.  Still 
she  is  a  slave.  Bids  were  now  tendered,  reservedly  at 
first,  but  they  increased  in  spirit  until  the  competition 
became  general.  The  amount  increased  until  it  was 
enormous.  The  poor  girl  turned  a  supplicating  look 
around ;  her  eyes  met  those  of  our  friend,  who  had 
been  drawn  up  to  the  stand  by  the  excitement.  That 
look  told  a  tale  of  sadness  ;  it  struck  his  heart,  and  he 
gazed  at  her  with  pity,  and  bid  on  her  again ;  and 


6  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

again  was  the  sum  increased,  and  still  lie  bravely 
stood  there  bidding  on.  At  length  the  offers  dropped 
off,  and  he  and  a  low,  wrinkled  debauchee  were  the 
sole  competitors.  A  few  more  passes,  and  a  smile  of 
scorn  curled  his  lip,  as  he  saw  the  look  of  anxiety  in 
•the  face  of  his  antagonist  give  place  to  one  of  deep 
and  intense  hatred  and  rage  as  he  gave  in,  and  surren 
dered,  while  the  prize  was  knocked  down  to  his  an 
tagonist.  The  stranger  stepped  to  the  office,  and  re 
ceived  the  young  girl  as  she  staggered  and  fell  into 
his  arms.  She  had  fainted ;  and,  as  he  bore  her  out, 
the  clink  of  the  gold  he  had  paid  sounded  louder  than 
the  din  of  human  voices. 

A  few  weeks  saw  the  fair  young  slave  placed  on 
board  a  packet  bound  for  the  city  of  New  Orleans. 


CHAPTER  II. 

oae  of  those  quaintly-fashioned  houses,  away 
down  in  the  heart  of  the  first  municipality  in  New 
Orleans,  and  built  long  ago  in  old  Spanish  times,  I 
beg  the  reader  to  accompany  me. 

"We  approach  the  house.  It  stands  in  a  recess,  back 
from  the  street,  and,  up  the  columns  of  the  portico,  is 
a  perfect  wilderness  of  cypress  and  madeira  vines. 

"We  ascend  the  ancient  steps  composed  of  the  marble 
of  France,  and  pause  at  the  dark,  old  door.  At  the 
summons  of  the  lion-headed  knocker,  which  seems  to 
have  stood  the  storms  of  a  century,  the  door  opens 
and  we  are  at  once  admitted.  To  the  right  is  the 
parlor,  and  this  room  we  invite  the  reader  also  to  enter. 

This  apartment  was  furnished  in  a  sumptuous  man 
ner.  It  was  large  and  spacious.  A  rich  carpet 
covered  tho  floor,  and  the  dark,  heavy  furniture  was 
of  an  antique  pattern  and  after  the  style  of  Louis  Six 
teenth.  A  French  piano  was  the  only  modern  article 
in  the  room.  A  massive  gilt  cornice  and  an  elaborately 
carved  center-piece  gave  a  finished  and  beautiful  effect 
to  the  whole.  The  walls  were  ornamented  with 
several  very  fine  paintings.  One,  a  landscape  by 
Claude  Lorraine ;  one  by  Teniers ;  a  young  girl  by 
Eubens,  and  a  copy  of  Michael  Angelo's  Yirgin  and 
child.  This  collection,  with  a  number  of  antique 
statuettes  on  the  mantle,  and  a  bust  of  Napoleon,  ex- 


8  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

hibited  in  the  occupants  of  this  mansion  a  refined  and 
exalted  taste.  There  were  many  richly  bound  volumes 
also  scattered  about. 

Turn  we  now  to  the  person  who  was  seated  in  a 
massive  oak  chair,  near  the  glowing  fire.  The  even 
ing  was  cool,  for  it  was  late  in  the  season ;  and  the 
flame  danced  merrily  up  the  chimney,  and  roared  and 
crackled  as  the  coal  split  and  burst  into  fragments, 
emitting  jets  of  bright  gas,  darting  hither  and  thither 
as  if  in  glee.  He  was,  as  we  have  said,  seated  in  a 
large  chair  leaning  back ;  his  feet  stretched  out  on  a 
stool — the  very  personification  of  ease  and  comfort. 
He  held  in  his  hand  a  newspaper,  and  around  him 
strewing  the  floor  were  many  more,  some  half  opened, 
and  others  wrapped  up  as  if  just  received,  while  others 
were  wide  open,  as  if  hastily  glanced  at,  and  then  care 
lessly  thrown  aside.  The  fragrance  of  a  Havana  cigar 
filled  the  room,  and  the  pale  blue  smoke  curled  gently 
over  his  head.  There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the 
appearance  of  the  individual.  He  seemed  about  forty 
years  of  age.  A  high  and  intellectual  brow,  a  straight 
nose  of  the  true  Grecian  style,  and  an  oval  face,  dis 
tinguished  him  as  a  very  handsome  man,  while  the 
thick  early  chestnut  locks  around  his  white  forehead 
gave  a  manly  cast  to  his  countenance.  He  had  dark 
hazel  eyes,  which  gleamed  softly  and  pensively,  as  he 
lifted  them  from  the  paper  and,  ever  and  anon,  gazed 
intently  in  the  fire.  As  he  thus  looked  steadily,  a 
quiet  smile  of  contentment  played  around  his  lips, 
which  were  full  and  finely  chiseled.  But  you  could 
see  that  there  was  a  cast  about  his  mouth  and  chin, 
which  seemed  to  denote  a  want  of  firmness  of  purpose, 
He  was  in  stature,  over  the  middle  height,  and  nobly 
and  elegantly  formed.  But  there  was  an  expression 


THE    CREOLE    OKPHANS.  9 

which  stamped  the  whole  features  and  denoted  a  mind 
satisfied  with  itself  and  the  world. 

It  may  be  that  our  readers  do  not  recognize  the 
stranger  of  the  cafe  of  Kingston,  the  purchaser  of 
the  Quadroon  girl ;  but  it  was  he.  Charles  Ormond,  for 
such  was  his  name,  was  a  man  who  had  lived  to  the 
age  of  forty,  and  never  made  an  enemy.  He  was  an 
easy,  quiet  person,  who  never  troubled  himself  about  the 
affairs  of  his  neighbors ;  nay,  not  even  his  own  affairs ; 
but  it  seemed  as  if  fortune  smiled  on  him,  and  blessed 
the  "  even  tenor  of  his  way,"  for,  if  he  did  not  add  to 
his  large  property,  he  held  his  own  and  enjoyed  life 
to  its  full.  He  had  many  years  previously  come  to 
the  South  from  Maryland  with  his  father,  who  died, 
leaving  his  son  a  valuable  plantation  and  a  large  force 
of  negroes  on  the  Mississippi  river  in  Louisiana. 

Colonel  Ormond  (for  he  held  a  Colonel's  commission 
in  the  militia)  divided  his  time  between  his  residence 
in  the  city  and  his  plantation,  on  which  he  lived  during 
the  rolling  season.  He  was  a  bachelor.  An  affair  of 
the  heart  many  years  before  with  a  Creole  girl  stifled 
his  energy  and  killed  his  matrimonial  aspirations,  and 
he  never  found  sufficient  courage  to  replace  the  ideal 
with  the  real. 

He  remained  for  some  minutes  in  the  comfortable 
position  in  which  we  have  found  him,  and  then,  start 
ing  from  his  reverie  suddenly,  he  took  from  the  mantle 
a  small  bell,  and  gently  rung  it. 

In  reply  to  the  summons,  a  servant  appeared  bear 
ing  lights,  and,  closing  the  shutters,  proceeded  to  ar 
range  the  tea-table  with  two  seats.  As  the  table  was 
drawn  up  to  the  fire  and  a  light  Indian  bamboo  chair 
placed  at  its  side,  Colonel  Ormond  seemed  to  be 
aroused  by  the  sound  of  a  singularly  sweet  voice  from 


10  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

the  adjoining  room,  and,  in  a  moment  more,  a  light 
footstep  pressed  the  soft  carpet  by  his  side.  His  eyes 
lighted  up  with  a  smile  of  pleasure,  as  he  glanced 
around  and  his  gaze  fell  upon  the  form  of  a  beautiful 
woman,  of  some  twenty -five  or  six  years  of  age. 

She  was  of  that  clear,  olive  complexion,  which,  al 
though  it  plainly  told  that  she  might  have  a  tinge  of 
African  blood,  yet  also  showed  that  it  was  far  re 
moved.  Her  form  was  of  that  voluptuous,  flowing 
mould,  whose  every  action  is  grace,  and  it  expressed  the 
deep,  yet  hidden  fires,  which  burned  within  a  shrine 
as  pure  as  a  vestal's.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  dazzling, 
and  as  ebon  as  her  hair,  which  was  braided  simply 
around  a  smooth  brow  and  ornamented  with  a  single 
moss-rose.  Her  features  were  regular  and  classic.  As 
she  entered  the  room,  a  smile  illuminated  her  beauti 
ful  face  and  showed  her  pearly  teeth.  She  advanced 
to  Colonel  Ormond,  and,  sinking  on  the  stool,  gazed 
a  moment  at  him,  and  then  threw  her  arms  around  his 
neck.  He  leaned  over,  pressed  her  beautiful  head  to 
his  breast  and  imprinted  many  kisses  on  her  brow  and 
lips.  She  leaned  across  his  knee — 

"Ah!  Ormond,"  she  said,  "I  have  a  terrible  quarrel 
for  you." 

"What  now?"  he  laughingly  replied. 

"  Did  you  not  promise  me  when  you  left  after  din 
ner,  that  you  would  return  at  once  ?  But  you  had  to 
go  up  town,  and  in  some  snug  little  corner  you  had 
your  wine  and  cigar,  and  a  quiet  game  of  chess." 

"  "Well,  Marie,"  he  answered,  "  I  must  plead  guilty  ; 
what  is  the  punishment?" 

1  Well  let  me  see,  I  must  deprive  you  of  your  wine 
for  a  whole  week." 

"  I  submit ;  but  now  let  me  ask  you — how  do  you 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  11 

find  the  city,  after  so  ]ong  a  sojourn  on  the  planta 
tion  ?" 

11  Oh !  Charles,  I  hate  a  city  life,  and  you  know  it ; 
I  love  the  country  ;  but,  when  you  are  with  me,  I  even 
love  the  city  more." 

"  You  are  a  flatterer,  Marie,"  he  said,  playfully  tap 
ping  her  cheek  with  a  folded  newspaper. 

"  But  I  have  long  determined  not  to  keep  up  two 
establishments;  we  will  sell  the  house  in  town,  and 
then  we  will  live  altogether  in  the  country." 

"  Oh  I  I  should  be  so  glad/'  she  replied  enthusiasti 
cally.  "  I  will  then  take  a  pleasure  in  domestic  affairs, 
I  will  attend  to  the  poultry  and  dairy  and  garden." 

"  Oh !  yes,  love  in  a  cottage ;  but  you  forget — where 
are  Zoe  and  Estelle." 

She  smiled  rapturously  at  the  mention  of  those 
names,  and  darted  from  the  room. 

He  gazed  after  her  a  moment,  sighed  and  shook  his 
head.  "  Beautiful  creature  1"  he  said,  "you  are  a  treas 
ure  to  any  man.  Why  should  I  hesitate  a  moment 
longer  in  giving  you  my  name,  when  you  have  so  long 
had  my  heart ;  you,  who  are  so  good,  so  pure  and  so 
kind  to  all  ?  The  law  will  not  sanction  a  marriage  in 
Louisiana,  yet  for  your  sake  should  I  seek  another  state : 
yet — yet,  the  feeling.  That  dark  tinge  from  Africa — 
can  it  be  so,  a  Quadroon !  As  to  the  sin  of  living  so 
in  this  pseudo-marital  manner — that  is  for  churchmen 
to  decide.  There  are  many  who  do  it.  It  is  custom, 
and  custom  calls  it  honorable.  Yet  I  owe  it  to  her ; 
to  her  whose  heart  is  as  warm  as  the  sunbeams  of  her 
own  bright  isle.  I  owe  it  to  my  children,  the  cherubs 
with  their  soft  warm  smile,  and  happy  laugh,  and  lov 
ing  kiss.  I  owe  it  to  them,  and  I  '11  do  them  justice 
at  any  rate.  Well,  well — I  '11  think  of  it ;  I  love  Ma- 


12  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Hk 

rie  truly ;  for  her  noble  gratitude  and  true  womanly 
kindness ;  yet  I  had  thought  my  heart  would  ever  re 
bel  against  such  a  sentiment  as  love."  Here  he  sighed, 
as  reminiscences  of  "langsyne"  came  across  his  mem 
ory;  and  he  soon  relapsed  into  his  former  musings. 
And  now  while  our  scene  is  thus  disposed,  we  will  en 
ter  into  an  explanation  and  make  a  portion  of  the  fol 
lowing  story  more  plain  to  the  reader. 

Marie  St.  Yalle  was  a  native  of  the  island  of  Mar 
tinique.  She  told  Ormond  that  she  was  a  Quadroon, 
and  that  her  father  was  a  French  officer,  who  was  sta 
tioned  and  died  at  Port  Eoyal  of  yellow  fever.  It 
was  said  that  she  was  a  slave,  and,  after  the  death  of 
her  protector,  she  came  into  the  possession  of  a  relative 
of  his,  who,  knowing  the  relation  they  bore  to  each 
othe^  never  urged  his  claim  of  ownership  with  the 
remainder  of  the  property ;  but  suffered  her  to  retain 
it  and  act  as  if  she  were  regularly  emancipated. 

Marie's  mother,  at  the  instigation  of  her  friends,  now 
sent  her  to  Paris  to  be  educated  at  a  convent. 

She  was  at  that  time  but  six  years  of  age.  Here 
she  remained  until  she  was  ten,  when  her  mother  de 
termined  to  remove  to  Paris  and  left  Martinique  to 
visit  France.  When  some  two  weeks  at  sea,  the  ves 
sel  was  wrecked,  and  poor  little  Marie  was  an  orphan 
with  no  one  to  protect  her,  no  friend  to  guide  her  foot 
steps  in  a  world,  set  with  snares  for  one  so  young  and 
innocent. 

This  was  the  story  which  Ormond  had  ever  believed 
as  told  by  Marie ;  and  she  repeated  it  from  the  lips  of 
an  old  woman  who  claimed  her  as  an  aunt  after  her 
return  to  Martinique. 

When  the  news  of  the  loss  of  the  vessel,  which 
reached  Martinique  in  due  time,  was  known,  the  reput- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  13 

ed  aunt,  a  Quadroon,  who  resided  on  the  island,  at 
once  removed  Marie  to  her  home. 

As  time  passed,  there  were  many  admirers  of  the 
young  and  beautiful  girl,  and,  among  them,  several 
young  men  of  wealth  on  the  island.  There  was  also 
an  Englishman,  who  was  said  to  be  a  merchant  in  Ja 
maica — but  whom  others  boldly  stated  to  be  a  pirate, 
or  little  better — who  came,  with  a  young  and  lovely 
wife,  to  reside  in  the  town  of  Port  Koyal.  They  became 
acquainted  with  Marie,  and,  struck  by  her  beauty  and 
apparent  artlessness,  showed  a  great  many  kindnesses 
to  her.  This  gained  the  heart  of  her  old  aunt,  who 
readily  consented  that  Marie  should  accompany  Cap 
tain  Berwick  and  his  wife,  on  a  visit  to  his  estate  in 
Jamaica.  They  sailed,  and  upon  their  arrival,  she  was 
offered  as  a  slave  at  a  mart  in  Kingston. 

Here  she  attracted  the  attention  of  our  friend  Colonel 
Ormond,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  the  West  Indies.  Her 
appearance,  and  the  contradictory  tale  told  by  Berwick 
called  his  notice  to  her  forcibly,  and,  after  a  few  inqui 
ries,  he  became  her  purchaser  for  a  large  sum. 

And  thus  we  find  her,  after  living  ten  years  with 
him,  the  acknowledged  mistress  of  his  household,  and 
still  a  slave,  and  by  him  as  well  as  herself  believed  to 
be  a  Quadroon. 

During  all  this  period,  they  had  lived  together  as 
man  and  wife.  She  had  by  her  beauty  and  goodness 
so  insensibly  won  her  way  to  his  heart  that  he  loved 
her  devotedly.  Not  indeed  with  that  refined  and  sen 
timental  love,  which  poets  in  their  moon-struck  fancies 
prate  about,  but  with  that  warm  and  generous  passion 
such  as  children  of  the  tropics  feel.  Ormond  did  not 
indeed  at  first  dream  of  making  her  his  wife,  but,  as 
years  flew  by,  and  the  graces  of  her  mind  and  the 


14  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

nobleness  of  her  soul  were  brought  into  action,  and  as 
she  became  the  mother  of  two  darling  children,  he  be 
gan  to  seriously  reflect  upon  it,  and  ultimately  determ 
ined  to  consummate  the  matter  by  giving  her  his  name. 
He  had  delayed  it  thus  far.  When  brought  to  the  test, 
there  was  in  his  mind  a  shrinking  reluctance,  which 
he  did  not  even  confess  to  himself,  of  mingling  his 
name  and  lineage  with  one  in  whose  veins  the  burning 
tide  of  Africa  flowed.  Then  there  was  a  feeling  of 
delicacy  in  bringing  the  affair  before  the  public,  and 
laying  his  household  gods  open  to  the  vulgar  gaze. 
But  now  he  determined  to  surmount  all  this,  and 
make  the  amende  honorable. 

Thus  we  find  him,  and  it  is  but  justice  to  say  that 
such  had  long  been  his  earnest  intention. 

It  was  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes,  that  laugh 
ing,  silvery  voices  were  heard,  and  the  patter  of  hasty 
little  feet,  and  Marie  appeared,  followed  by  the  chil 
dren,  who,  as  soon  as  they  had  entered  the  room,  ut* 
tered  the  word  "  Papa,"  and  rushed  to  greet  with  ca 
resses  one  who  was  ever  delighted  to  receive  them,  and 
whose  face  beamed  with  pleasure,  as  he  noted  their  af 
fectionate  earnestness.  He  smiled  and  pressed  them  to 
his  heart,  as  they  climbed  upon  his  knee,  and  he  list 
ened  and  smiled  again,  at  their  childish  prattle.  Marie 
stood  near ;  a  tear  of  delight  was  in  her  eye,  as  she 
gazed,  with  all  a  fond  mother's  pride,  at  the  objects 
which  engrossed  so  much  of  her  affections. 

Colonel  Ormond  passed  his  arms  around  them,  and, 
thus  encircled,  he  leaned  back  and  gazed  at  the  enchant 
ing  fairies.  Zoe,  the  elder,  was  ten  years  of  age  ;  Estelle 
two  years  her  junior.  Zoe  was  of  that  rich,  deep  tint 
which  is  emblematical  of  a  mixed  blood  ;  but  her  fine 
transparent  skin  showed  the  blue  veins,  through  which 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  15 

coursed  an  ardent  tide.  Her  features  were  regular, 
and  her  dark  eye  the  same  as  her  mother's.  She  was 
of  a  reserved,  yet  proud  disposition,  and  extremely 
sensitive.  Estelle,  whose  style  of  beauty  was  similar, 
had  a  lighter  complexion.  Her  eye  was  soft  and 
beaming  as  a  gazelle's,  but  resembled  her  father's.  She 
was  wild,  credulous  and  enthusiastic,  and  more  viva 
cious  than  Zoe. 

The  evening  meal  was  announced,  and  the  family 
partook  of  it.  "When  old  Sylvia,  the  nurse,  entered 
and  bore  off  -the  children  to  bed,  Marie  remained. 

Colonel  Ormond  drew  forth  a  chess-board,  and, 
having  lighted  a  fresh  cigar,  invited  her  to  play. 
When  they  had  been  thus  engaged  a  half  hour, 
there  was  a  pause  in  the  game.  Marie  looked  up. 
"  Ormond,"  said  she,  "  do  you  know  what  I  have 
been  thinking  of  to-day  ?" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  smiling,  and  making  a  move  on 
the  board.  "  But  doubtless  you  have  been  studying 
out  some  new  pattern  for  a  cape,  or  have  invented 
a  new  mode  of  dressing  the  hair." 

"  Something  more  serious  than  that." 

"  Well." 

"  Charles,  you  know  that  our  children  are  now 
growing  up  without  education ;  and  I  have  thought 
that  we  should  try  and  place  them  at  school." 

"  That  is  what  I  have  often  considered." 

"  Well,  I  have  thought  of  a  plan." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  To-day  Monsieur  Cirall£  was  here  with  Madame  ; 
they  are  going  to  return  to  France  to  live." 

"Indeed!" 

"  He  wishes  to  return.  And  now  for  my  proposi 
tion.  Let  us  send  the  children  to  Paris.  In  the  Con- 


16  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

vent  of  Mercy  they  will  find  a  home,  and  in  dear 
mother  St.  Clare  a  parent." 

"  Marie,  this  is  sudden,"  said  Ormond,  thoughtfully. 
"  It  requires  reflection.  There  are  schools  nearer " 

"Charles,  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  she  re 
plied,  interrupting  him.  "  I  have  reflected  on  this.  It 
is  a  terrible  thing  to  send  away  such  young  children ; 
but,  Charles,  you  know  the  pain,  the  humiliation,  to 
have  a  slight  put  upon  them  on  account  of  their  de 
scent.  Oh !  /  know,  I  can  feel  this.  No !  we  will 
not  place  them  where  those  prejudices  exist." 

"  Your  observations  are  just,  Marie,"  he  said;  "  but 
the  sacrifice  is  great." 

"  Oh !  Charles,  you  little  know  the  sacrifices  a  lov 
ing  mother  can  make,  the  pangs  she  can  endure,  and 
the  agony  she  can  suffer  for  those  she  loves.  I  can, 
and  am  willing  to  place  them  from  under  my  care." 

"  "Well,  Marie,  they  must  be  placed  somewhere ;  and 
yet  I  dislike  to  act.  Procrastination  is  one  of  my 
greatest  faults.  I  am  too  indolent,  and  some  day  it 
will  be  my  ruin.  What  do  you  propose  ?" 

"  To  send  them  with  good  Madame  Ciralle' ;  she 
will  place  them  in  the  convent." 

"  Will  you  speak  to  her  about  it  ?" 

"  Yes :  and  I  know  she  will  be  delighted.  She  has 
no  children  of  her  own,  and  in  Paris  she  can  so  often 
visit  them." 

"  It  is  a  good  idea,  Marie,  as  all  your  ideas  are,"  he 
replied,  affectionately  pressing  her  hand. 

"  Charles,  it  is  a  great  trial ;  and  yet  it  is  for  their 
good.  The  idea  of  separation  from  them  is  almost 
death ;  but  they  will  be  kindly  treated,  and  habits  of 
industry  will  be  taught  them.  But  oh  I"  she  continued 
with  vehemence,  "  if  they  go,  and,  Charles,  you  were 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  17 

to  be  taken  from  me — all !  and  even  I,  too,  might  die 

— their  fate "  She  shuddered,  and  the  pallor  of 

death  overspread  her  countenance.  "  Ah  !  they  would 
have  no  friend.  Their  mother's  fate,  despair !  death ! — 
the  slave  auction ! — shame,  and  ruin  !  Ah  !  but  there 
is,  there  must  be  a  God,  and  He  would  not  suffer  that." 

The  blood  flushed  over  Ormond's  brow,  as  he  ten 
derly  drew  her  toward  him ;  for  she  trembled  convuls 
ively  with  excitement,  and  this  was  a  subject  which 
always  caused  her  extreme  agitation.  "  Come,  Marie," 
he  tenderly  said,  "  compose  yourself.  There  is  no 
fear  of  that.  You  know  that  I  have  no  near  relations, 
and  those  I  have  are  far  away  among  the  frozen 
mountains  of  New  England.  The  children  will  have 
all  I  possess." 

"  I  know  it,  Charles  ;  I  know  it ;  and  I  feel  all  a 
woman  can  feel — how  deeply  and  how  tenderly  I  love 

you." 

"  I  believe  you,  Marie,  I  believe  you ;  and  you 
know,  Marie,  how  I  prize  you." 

"  Oh  !  Charles,  a  man  can  never  feel  the  strength  of  a 
woman's  love.  Oh !  you  are  dearer  to  me  than  others, 
or  than  you  otherwise  would  be.  Did  you  not  buy  me 
from  slavery — ay,  worse  than  slavery  ?  Have  you  not 
rescued  me  from  shame,  and  raised  me  up  to  your  own 
condition  ?  And  has  your  voice  ever  sounded  harshly 
in  my  ears  ?  Never !  Ah !  Charles,  I  love  you,  I  adore 
you."  And  here  she  fell  on  his  breast  again,  and  wept 
violently. 

"  Come,  Marie,  come — do  not  let  such  scenes  of 
horror  trouble  your  mind.  They  are  like  the  stormy 
wind  passing  through  the  strings  of  a  harp ;  they 
produce  notes  of  discord  and  sorrow.  Come,  my  love, 
only  summer  winds,  light  and  gentle,  should  pass 


18  THE    CREOLE    OKPHANS. 

through  your  harp,  and  call  forth  sweet*  sounds,  such 
as  you  delight  me  with.  Come,  you  shall  play  for 
me.  Come !"  He  arose,  and  led  her  gently  to  a 
piano ;  and  as  she  struck  the  keys,  he  leaned  over  her, 
and  drank  in  the  rich  and  silvery  sweetness  of  her 
voice.  "  You  have  improved  much,  Marie,"  he  said, 
as  she  arose  after  she  had  finished,  "  and  have  well 
profited  by  Ciralle's  lessons." 

She  smiled  with  a  gratified  air,  and  leaned  her  head 
on  him  as  he  led  her  back  to  her  seat. 

"  And  now  that  your  mind  is  composed,  let  us  sit 
and  talk  awhile." 

"Well,  Charles,"  she  replied,  "will  you  be  angry 
if  I  say  something  to  you  ?" 

"  Surely  not,  Marie ;  no  subject  is  forbidden  to  you ; 
but  I  see  by  your  gravity  that  it  is  another  one  of  my 
sins  of  omission." 

"  Charles,  I  can  not  reproach  you ;  but  you  know, 
according  to  law,  I  am  still  in  bondage." 

"  True,  true,  Marie  ;  and  there  is  another  sin  often 
years'  standing ;  and  I  assure  you  that  there  has  not 
been  a  single  week  during  the  past  year  that  I  have 
not  intended  to  act  in  the  matter.  But,"  continued 
he,  "  you  know  the  cause,  Marie.  It  is  a  shrinking,  a 
repugnance  to  make  an  expose  of  our  situation.  Still 
it  must  be  done." 

"  That  is  all,  Charles,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  neglect 
it  no  longer." 

"Doubt  it  not,  Marie;  but  what,  let  me  ask,  makes 
you  think  of  such  things  to-night  ?" 

"I  scarce  know  why  it  is,  but  there  has  a  most  singular 
thing  happened  to  me.  The  other  day,  as  I  was  un 
packing  some  bulbs  which  had  been  put  up  last  season, 
my  eye  caught  a  line  on  the  paper  cover — I  paused 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  19 

and  read  it,  it  was  a  leaf  of  an  old  law-book — 
one  sentence  most  particularly  attracted  my  notice; 
but  you  are  laughing  at  me." 

"  No,  no,  proceed ;  you  quite  interest  me." 

"Well,  it  ran  thus — it  was  headed,  ' Las  siete  Par- 
tidas.  The  children  who  are  born  of  a  free  man  and 
a  slave  are  themselves  slaves,  as  they  follow  the  condition 
of  the  mother?  " 

"Well." 

"  And  it  went  on,  and  gave  the  law  of  descent,  and 
stated  that  illegitimate  children  could  not  inherit  prop 
erty  which  was  the  father's." 

"  Well,  that  is  all  true — the  leaf,  which  you  acci 
dentally  came  across,  is  a  portion  of  our  old  Spanish 
law,  but  do  not  be  uneasy,  Marie — maybe  the  thing 
was  intended  by  Providence  to  hasten  me  on  to  action 
in  this  matter." 

"  Oh,  Charles,  I  feel  no  fear  so  long  as  we  both  shall 
live,  but  our  God  only  has  the  knowledge  when  we 
shall  die.  Consider  if  it  were  soon  or  suddenly,  the 
situation  of  our  children." 

"  You  represent  your  case  in  a  strong  light,  Marie  ; 
but  I  hope  no  such  event  will  happen  soon." 

"  God  avert  it ;  but  we  are  in  His  hands." 

"  Most  true,  Marie.  If  I  were  to  reason  with  you,  I 
might  be  persuaded  within  the  pale  of  the  Church." 

"  Charles,  do  you  know  that  I  am  a  little  inclined  to 
be  superstitious?" 

"  Can  I  doubt  it,  when  you  believe  in  signs  ?" 

"Nay,"  she  added,  playfully;  "do  not  begin  with 
ridicule." 

"  Well,  proceed." 

"  Do  you  remember  old  Celeste,  who  died  at  the 
plantation  last  summer  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  think  before  she  died  she  used 


20  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

about  three  gallons  of  my  best  brandy  to  keep  her 
1  sperits1  up,  as  she  said." 

"  Well,  I  had  been  very  kind  to  her,  and  about  an 
hour  before  she  died,  she  called  me  close  to  her  side. 
She  had,  you  know,  been  a  priestess  or  conjuror,  or 
something  of  the  kind  in  her  own  country.  '  Missis,' 
she  said,  *  you  has  been  mighty  kind  to  the  poor  old 
creetur,  and  I  must  give  you  the  warnin  before  I 
leave.'  She  gazed  at  me  long  and  earnestly.  At 
length  she  said,  c  Child,  I  am  going  soon,  but  listen  to 
the  words  of  an  old  woman  who  loves  you.  Your 
eye  is  bright,  and  the  plow  of  grief  has  not  been  over 
your  brow  yet ;  it  is  smooth — the  current  of  your  life 
flows  calmly,  but  there  are  hidden  quicksands  below. 
Now  turn  your  eyes  to  where  the  cold  north  wind 
comes  from,  then  and  there  will  come  that  cold  wind 
to  blight  your  soul  and  wither  it  up.  Yet  stay,'  she 
quickly  said,  'there  may  be  a  different  fate — you 
may  sleep  upon  a  cold  pillow  before  that — I  see  a 
cross  line  in  your  hand ;'  (she  had  taken  my  hand  a 
moment  before)  ;  '  your  children  may  feel  the  blight ; 
but  it  will  come.  I  tell  you  to  warn  you,  not  for 
spite.'  She  died  very  soon  after,  having,  at  her 
request,  been  lifted  up  to  see  the  sun  set." 

"Pshaw!  nonsense,"  cried  Ormond,  laughing  heartily ; 
"  why,  old  Celeste,  your  Pythoness,  had  been  in  her 
dotage  for  five  years  previous  to  her  death." 

"  Oh,  may  be  so,"  replied  Marie,  "  but  her  words 
always  had  a  great  effect  upon  me.  Did  you  never 
observe  that,  from  the  most  common  negro  language, 
she  would  branch  off,  and  her  conversation  even 
become  eloquent  and  fervid?" 

"  Yes,  that  was  for  effect — she  was  naturally  intel 
ligent — but  come,  you  are  tired,  and  to-morrow  we 
will  go  to  the  plantation." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"All,  in  a  reverend  row, 

Their  gray-haired  grandsires,  sitting  in  the  sun 
Before  the  gate,  and  leaning  on  their  staff, 
The  well-remembered  stories  of  their  youth 
Recount,  and  shake  their  aged  locks  with  joy." 

HHHE  morning  came,  fair  and  balmy.  The  population 
-*-  of  the  portion  of  the  city,  in  which  Colonel  Or- 
mond  resided,  were  not  then,  nor  are  they  now,  remark 
able  for  early  rising. 

While  the  Americanized  portion  of  the  metropolis 
began  to  resound  to  the  noise,  confusion  and  bustle 
incident  to  a  commercial  port,  this  part  was  almost 
buried  in  silence. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  that  Colonel  Ormond, 
Marie,  and  the  children,  who,  furnished  with  shawls, 
and,  stowed  among  carpet-bags  and  band-boxes,  ac 
companied  by  old  Sylvia,  the  nurse,  stepped  into  a 
carriage  in  waiting,  and  were  rolled  down  to  the  good 
steamer  "  Baton  Rouge,"  then  lying  at  the  levee, 
ready  to  leave  for  Bayou  Sara  and  the  coast — which 
trip  then  generally  occupied  two  days  and  nights. 

Among  the  passengers  there  were  many  different 
characters.  There  was  the  Northerner  returning  home, 
well  posted  up  as  to  the  "  Slavery  Question  "  in  the 
South ;  the  green  country  boy  who  had  been  to  the 
city  for  the  first  time,  and  the  old  sugar  planter, 
who  was  hobnobbing  with  the  up-land  cotton  planter 
at  the  bar. 


22  THECREOLE    ORPHANS. 

There  were  many  of  Colonel  Ormond's  acquaint 
ances  on  board,  and  tie  formed  many  new  ones. 

By  one  of  his  friends,  he  was  introduced  to  a  North 
ern  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Hartley.  With  this 
person  he  was  peculiarly  struck  from  the  first.  He 
was  a  tall,  handsome  man,  with  a  pleasing  expression 
of  countenance,  and  an  upright  bearing.  He  had  been 
sent  by  one  of  the  Northern  banks  on  business,  and 
his  present  destination,  in  furtherance  of  his  object,  was 
a  small  river  town.  -He  was  much  pleased  with  Colo 
nel  Ormond.  It  was  his  first  visit  to  the  South,  and 
he  exhibited  much  concern  in  the  planting  interest,  in 
asmuch  as,  having  been  bred  among  people  that  hold 
that  Slavery  is  a  crime,  he  was  surprised  to  find  erro 
neous  the  views  which  he  had  imbibed  regarding  it. 
He  was  a  thorough-bred  and  educated  gentleman. 
Colonel  Ormond  was  amused  at  the  earnestness,  with 
which  he  propounded  the  most  absurd  questions  in  re 
gard  to  the  negroes,  and  at  the  queries  he  put  to  over 
seers  on  the  plantations  where  the  boat  stopped. 

After  some  further  conversation  with  him,  Ormond  at 
length  gave  him  an  invitation  to  visit  him  at  his  plant 
ation.  This  was  done  partly  because  he  learned  that 
Hartley's  object  was  the  purchase  of  a  large  amount  of 
stock  in  a  city  bank  in  which  he  was  himself  a  stock 
holder. 

The  invitation  was  gratefully  accepted. 

It  was  a  placid  Sabbath  evening  as  the  steamer 
neared  Colonel  Ormond's  landing,  and,  as  her  massive 
bell  tolled  out  its  deep  sound,  she  slackened  her  head 
way,  and  approached  the  shore.  What  a  sight  was 
there  to  give  the  lie  to  the  foul  calumnies  of  the  North 
ern  agitator  1 

The  family  residence,  built  like  many  others  on  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  23 

coast,  was  after  the  "  olden  French  style."  It  was  sup 
ported  on  brick  pillars  ;  and  a  large  and  spacious  por 
tico  ran  around  it.  Those  old  Frenchmen,  how  wise 
they  were  !  They  studied  the  sanitary  rules  of  archi 
tecture  instead  of  leaving  their  dwellings  "  squat"  and 
flat  on  the  ground,  where  no  circulation  of  air  could 
be  had,  and  where  they  got'  the  full  benefit  of  all  the 
unhealthy  emanations  of  a  soil,  composed  of  the  very 
elements  of  malaria.  They  elevated  their  houses 
high,  had  tight  floors,  wide  galleries,  and  a  free  cur 
rent  of  pure,  dry  air.  The  roof  ran  up  very  steep  and 
was  crowned  by  a  cupola,  surrounded  with  a  heavy 
balustrade.  The  yard  was  ornamented  with  that  pride 
of  the  south,  the  live-oak,  which  afforded  a  grateful 
shade  during  the  summer  heat. 

Then  there  was  to  the  rear  and  left  a  dense  grove  of 
orange,  which  ran  along  by  the  garden  fence.  The 
garden  itself  was  tastefully  laid  out  in  plots,  and  boast 
ed  a  fine  collection  of  horticultural  treasures.  Out 
side  of  the  yard,  and  beyond  the  garden,  was  the  Quar 
ter  for  the  negroes.  The  houses  ran  in  four  equal 
rows,  at  angles  from  the  river.  In  the  midst  was  the 
overseer's  house,  which,  like  the  rest,  was  brilliant  with 
a  new  coat  of  whitewash  ;  and  the  whole  were  buried 
in  a  little  forest  of  China-trees.  At  one  corner  of  the 
"  quarter"  yard  was  the  hospital,  where  the  sick  daily  re 
ceived  the  attentions  of  a  skillful  physician,  and  were 
well  nursed  by  an  old  negress  who  gloried  in  the  title 
of  "Grumbling  Sally." 

Near  the  overseer's  house  hung  a  massive  bell,  at  the 
summons  of  which,  the  labors  of  the  day  were  com 
menced  and  ended. 

Beyond  the  Quarter  were  the  negroes'  gardens  and 
chicken-houses.  The  stables  and  corn-houses  could 


24  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

be  seen  through  the  trees  further  back ;  while  the  tall 
chimneys  of  the  sugar-house  overlooked  the  whole. 

It  was  indeed  a  scene  of  beauty  and  good  order. 
The  steamer  landed  our-  party ;  crowds  of  negroes  of 
all  ages,  sexes  and  colors,  came  thronging  to  meet 
them ;  smiling  and  glad  faces  were  all  around,  eager 
and  clamorous  to  bid  a  welcome  to  a  kind  and  indulg 
ent  master.  Mr.  Hartley  accompanied  the  family  to 
the  house.  He  had  seen  enough  in  his  brief  inter 
course  with  the  South,  to  appreciate  how  gross  was 
the  misrepresentation,  how  foul  and  ungenerous  the 
slanders,  which  had  been  dinned  into  his  ears  from 
his  infancy.  He  had  been  taught  to  look  upon  the 
slaveholder  as  a  kind  of  half-human  monster,  with  no 
feeling,  nor  sentiment  of  refinement  in  his  composition. 
And  the  life  of  the  slave,  a  dull  and  continued  round 
of  suffering,  an  eternal  groan  of  agony ;  with  no  ray 
of  comfort,  and  no  kind  word  to  cheer  thankless  la 
bor  from  year  to  year.  He  therefore  had  been  taught 
hatred  of  the  system  as  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues. 
But  Mr.  Hartley  was  a  man  of  observation ;  he  did 
not  allow  cradle  doctrine  to  influence  him  in  his  opin 
ions.  He  saw  before  him  a  sample  of  the  South,  a  na 
tive  picture,  not  flattered  or  got  up  for  effect,  he  saw 
the  slaves  in  their  every- day  life,  a  happy,  contented, 
and  careless  race  ;  well  fed  as  their  looks  testified ;  well 
lodged  and  not  over-tasked  ;  and  he  at  once  mentally 
drew  the  comparison  between  the  negroes  and  their 
happy  condition,  and  the  starved  laborer  of  the  North. 
He  saw  the  slave  well  taken  care  of,  and  comprehend 
ed  that  it  would  be  so,  if  not  from  philanthropy,  at 
least  for  the  sake  of  their  available  labor.  He  then 
turned  his  thoughts  to  the  North.  He  called  to  mind 
the  thousand  families,  who,  pale  and  attenuated  by 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  25 

want  .and  sickness,  are  shut  up  in  their  narrow,  filthy 
dens  ;  where  vice  and  depravity  stalk  abroad,  and  the 
wretched  inmates  live  and  die,  in  a  state '  lower  than, 
the  brutes  of  the  earth  ;  where  murder  rears  its 
bloody  front,  and  incest,  and  crimes  too  horrible  for 
even  the  police  officers'  gaze,  are  as  frequent  as  the 
revolutions  of  our  planet ;  and  he  cursed  mentally  the 
bigoted  fanatics,  who  delight  in  creating  feuds  between 
people,  who  should  be  on  terms  of  amity. 

Colonel  Ormond,  late  in  the  evening,  invited  Mr. 
Hartley  to  a  stroll  through  the  Quarter.  They  passed 
to  the  front  and  entered  1>he  yard.  Groups  of  negroes 
were  scattered  around  in  different  attitudes.  There 
were  seated,  on  a  bench  under  the  trees,  some  two  or 
three  older  ones,  whose  patriarchal  appearance  and 
gray  locks  attracted  immediate  notice. 

Around  them  was  a  group  of  younger  ones,  who 
eagerly  listened  to  the  conversation  of  their  seniors. 

There  were  another  set  stretched  at  full  length  on 
the  green  grass  ;  happy,  and  unconscious  of  the  deep 
degradation  of  their  situation.  There  was  a  troop  of 
noisy  children,  who  stopped  their  gambols  on  the  grass 
to  crowd  around  the  stranger  and  their  master,  who 
to  please  them  spoke  kindly  to  them.  Bursts  of 
laughter  went  forth  from  them  when  they  replied  to 
his  questions.  They  seemed  delighted  at  his  notice  ; 
but  exhibited  none  of  that  fright  which  would  be 
shown  by  those,  with  whom  kindness  was  not  usual. 
They  came  around — a  merry  grinning  troop ;  they  ex 
amined  Mr.  Hartley's  dress,  and  handled  his  watch 
chain  without  fear  or  hesitation.  At  the  doors  of 
some  of  the  houses,  were  seen  sitting  the  inmates  quiet 
ly  smoking  their  pipes,  while  ever  and  anon  a  snatch 
of  a  hymn  would  issue  from  the  tenements  of  the  pious. 


26  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

All  were  free  from  care  and  happy  in  the  possession 
of  enough. 

As  Mr.  Hartley  turned  and  gazed  over  the  scene, 
he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  more  interesting  spec 
tacle.  The  deep  respect  paid  to  their  master,  as  they 
returned  to  the  house ;  the  combined  sounds  at  this 
lovely  hour ;  the  pale  blue  smoke  from  the  chimneys, 
as  the  negroes  prepared  their  evening  meal — all 
formed  a  picturesque  impression  which  he  never  forgot. 

One  character  presented  himself,  who  deserves  men 
tion.  He  was  called  old  Uncle  Pierre.  ,He  had  been, 
when  a  child,  brought  from  Congo.  He  was  a  middle- 
sized  old  man  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  evidently 
considered  himself  a  privileged  favorite.  He  had  a 
great  passion  for  putting  on  pompous  airs  ;  speaking  to 
the  other  negroes  with  a  tone  of  authority,  and  using 
big  words,  which  he  generally  put  in  the  wrong  place. 
He  came  up,  and,  after  making  his  best  bow,  informed 
his  master  how  careful  he  had  been  during  his  absence, 
and  lauded  himself  very  highly.  He  was  kept  about 
the  garden  and  yard,  and  attended  to  his  master's 
house,  a  kind  of  "boy"  of  all  work.  But  of  Pierre 
anon.  Colonel  Ormond  gave  him  a  kind  word,  and 
they  returned  to  the  house  and  to  the  evening  meal. 


CHAPTER  I¥. 

"Vincit  Veritas."    /' ."* 

TpOE  a  few  days  nothing  of  interest  transpired.  Mr. 
-*-  Hartley  remained  a  vgreat  portion  of  the  time  in 
the  house.  Marie  he  treated  with  the  greatest  court 
esy.  He  talked  with  the  children,  and  laughed  heartily 
at  the  gambols  of  the  little  negroes.  He  rode  with 
Colonel  Ormond  or  played  chess  in  the  evening ;  or  he 
would  steal  out  alone  on  the  river  bank  and  muse  on 
his  northern  home,  as  he  gazed  over  the  cold  dull 
water.  He  listened  to  old  Pierre's  stories  with  atten 
tion,  and  then  coolly  informed  him  that  he  believed 
every  word  of  them.  In  fact  he  had  rendered  himself 
a  general  favorite  in  a  short  time. 

"  Mr.  Hartley,"  said  Colonel  Ormond  to  him  one 
morning  after  breakfast ;  "  come  with  me  into  the 
Quarter.  I  want  you  to  see  the  way  our  negroes  are 
treated  with  regard  to  comfort,  food  and  sickness. 

"  Here,"  he  continued  as  they  stopped  before  the 
door  of  the  hospital,  "  let  us  enter."  It  was  a  square 
building  of  two  rooms,  with  a  small  gallery  in  front. 
One  room  was  destined  for  the  males,  and  the  other 
for  the  opposite  sex.  Every' thing  was  scrupulously, 
neat  and  clean.  In  the  male  department  there  were 
three  patients.  They  wefre  on  cots,  a  number  of  which 
were  placed  around  the  room/'  Colonel  Ormond  went 
up  to  each  one.  He  inquired  aft^J  their  ailments, 
and,  after  making  some  gentle  remark,  turned  and  en- 

•"' 


28  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

tered  the  other  room.  Here  were  also  several  patients. 
The  dispensary  was  in  this  room,  and  fully  supplied 
with  medicines.' 

Colonel  Ormond  now  rang  a  small  bell,  and  old 
"  grumbling  Sally"  answered  the  summons.  She  was 
a  thin,  spare  negress,  with  an  erect  figure  and  an  intel 
ligent  countenance.  "  She  is  the  nurse  of  the  hos 
pital,"  remarked  he,  "  and  can  undertake  the  care  of  a 
common  case,  as  well  as  some  physicians.  She  under 
stands  all  the  simple  medicines  and  their  doses,  and  is 
always  within  hearing  of  the  bell." 

After  making  a  few  remarks  to  her,  they  left  the 
building. 

"  That  is  a  precious  old  coon,"  said  Colonel  Ormond, 
"  and  would  amuse  you  by  her  originalities ;  she  has 
no  faith  in  the  regular  doctors,  except  my  family  phy 
sician,  Dr.  Grant,  and  imagines  that  the  doctor  and  she 
have  more  real  knowledge  than  all  the  faculty  beside. 
She  is -never  satisfied,  however,  and  he,nce  she  is  known 
by  the  name  of  '  grumbling  Sally.'  " 

Scarcely  had  he  said  this,  ere  they  heard  her  shrill 
voice  in  full  blast  at  a  number  of  little  negroes,  who 
were  at  some  of  their  pranks.  The  gentlemen  next 
entered  several  of  the  houses.  These  were  furnished 
very  plainly,  but  cleanly.  A  bed  in  the  corner,  and 
perhaps  two,  clothes  hanging  on  pegs  around  the  room, 
a  pine  table  and  a  few  chairs  made  on  the  place,  to 
gether  with  chests  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  cooking 
utensils,  completed  the  list — and  what  would  they  want 
more? 

"  How  do  you  feed  them  ?"  asked  Mr.  Hartley. 

"  On  Sunday  morning  the  overseer  goes  to  the  meat- 
house,  and  there  assembles  the  negroes ;  four  pounds 
of  pork  are  weighed  out  to  each  one  •  and  they  get  a  ' 


THE    CKEOLE    OEPHANS.  29 

peck  of  meal,  a  half  gallon  of  molasses,  beans,  sweet 
potatoes  and  vegetables,  which  they  raise  themselves. 
They  are  allowed  to  raise  chickens  and  always  have  a 
supply  of  eggs." 

"  What  time  do  they  go  to  work?" 

"  At  daylight,  and  stop  at  sundown,  rest  two  to 
three  hours  during  the  middle  of  the  day,  but  have 
nearly  every  Saturday  afternoon  and  evening  to  wash 
and  mend,  and  cultivate  their  patches.  On  Sunday 
they  either  go  to  church  or  remain  at  home,  as  may 
please  them.  They  always  have  a  week  after  the 
grinding  season  is  over." 

"  The  negroes  look  clean ;  is  it  true  they  have  only 
two  pair  of  pantaloons  a  year  ?" 

"Oh!  that,"  laughed  Colonel  Ormond,  "is  another 
of  the  Abolition  sayings.  I  give  my  negroes  three 
and  sometimes  four  suits  a  year  from  head  to  foot,  but 
generally  they  give  only  two  suits  a  year." 

"Have  they  no  amusements?" 

"  Often  they  have  a  dance  of  a  moonlight  night ;  for 
there  are  several  fiddlers,  and  then  we  give  them  a  big 
dinner  occasionally ;  but,  my  dear  sir — you  must  not 
imagine  that  I  personally  attend  to  all  this ;  my  over 
seer  takes  charge  of  these  things ;  I  give  general  orders, 
and  that  is  enough." 

"  You  do  not  punish  often?" 

"Seldom;  my  overseer  is  a  good  manager,  and 
when  he  does  punish  it  is  done  effectually  ;  but  it  is 
seldom  a  negro  is  struck." 

"They  are  a  happy  set,"  remarked  Mr.  Hartley, 
"  and  I  am  undeceived." 

"  Ah  1  if  all  our  Northern  brethren  could  come  and 
witness  the  truth,  a  great  change  would  take  place  in 
their  judgments." 


30  THE    CREOLE    OKPHANS. 

" I  am  gratified  beyond  measure,"  lie  replied.  "I 
had  been  led  to  believe  that  the  life  of  the  slave  was 
horrible ;  that  the  chain  of  slavery  galled  their  bodies ; 
that  the  lash  of  the  overseer  was  never  idle ;  that  not 
one  ray  of  hope  broke  through  the  dark  horizon  of 
their  life.  But  I  find  that  I,  with  thousands,  have  been 
deluded,  and  that  the  imaginary  chain  sits  as  lightly 
as  a  golden  one  on  the  bosom  of  beauty.  And  I  now 
say  unhesitatingly,  that  the  life  of  the  negro  at  the 
South  is  many  tipaes  better  than  that  of  the  lower 
working  clases  at  the  North." 

"  I  have  no  means  of  judging." 

"  Ah !  colonel,  but  I  have.  I  have  seen  the  oppres 
sion  of  the  rich  over  the  poor,  the  grinding  exaction, 
the  unfeeling  disregard  of  any  thing  but  monej^." 

"  Well,  they  will  learn  wisdom  probably." 

Just  then  they  were  passing  by  the  hospital,  and 
heard  the  tones  of  "  old  Sally  ;"  they  were  hid  behind 
the  projection  of  the  porch.  She  was  rattling  away  at 
a  terrible  rate  at  the  abuses,  which,  in  her  opinion,  re 
quired  correcting.  They  listened  to  her  a  moment 
and  then  walked  on,  thus  breaking  off  the  conversa 
tion  regarding  slavery,  which  pleased  Colonel  Ormond, 
for  he  really  disliked  discussions  on  the  subject. 

They  stopped  at  the  stable.  Old  Pierre  was  there 
superintending  .the  operation  of  drenching  a  horse. 

" Now,  you  ignorent  nigger,"  he  said;  "you  com 
mences  dis  way ;  you  ties  his  head  up  at  a  angle  of 
forty -five  degrees,  and  den  he  takes  it  like  a  lamb. 
Poor  fellow;  nowdat's  his  way.  Dar,  it's  gone  down 
in  his  diafram  now.  Come,  Jim,  git  up  and  ride  him 
around.  Dat  's  one  of  massa's  best  horses."  Here  he 
turned  and,  suddenly  seeing  the  gentlemen,  he  be- 


\ 

THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  81 

came  very  active ;  but,  in  showing  his  activity,  he  dis 
played  his  situation — he^was  tolerably  drunk. 

"  Well,  Pierre,"  said  the  colonel,  "  you  have  made 
a  mistake,  I  see.  You,  instead  of  the  horse,  have  taken 
the  whisky." 

"Well,  master,"  replied  he;  grinning,  "  I  almost  be 
gin  to  be  feered  I  is.  But  dat  was  a  mistake,  on  my 
part,  sah." 

'"  Yes,  so  I  see,"  replied  the  colonel ;  "  that  is  your 
besetting  sin,  Pierre.  Go  to  your  cabin." 

"  Massa,  if  you  stop  one  minute,  I  tell  you  how  it 
was.  You  see,  I  had  de  drench  in  one  hand,  and  some 
water  in  de  other,  an  — " 

They  turned  away,  leaving  Pierre  to  finish  "at  his 
leisure. 

It  was  night ;  but  Ormond  and  Mr.  Hartley  sat  in 
the  gallery,  enjoying  their  cigars.  Mr.  Hartley  had 
that  evening  been  taking  a  general  round  of  the  plant 
ation. 

"Well;  colonel,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  this  even 
ing  to  the  back  of  the  plantation,  and  had  a  long 
walk ;  and  I  have  been  favored  with  the  company  of 
Pierre  on  my  return." 

'  "  Pierre  considers  himself  a  privileged  character — a 
sort  of  patriarch  of  the  Quarter;  he  talks  more  and 
does  less  than  any  one  on  the  place." 

"He  causes  me  to  laugh  often  at  his  big  words, 
which  he  generally  misuses  ridiculously." 

"  He  stretches  the  long  bow,  you  observe  ?" 

"Yes ;  his  exploits  are  many  and  wonderful." 

"  But  there  is  a  peculiarity  about  him,  which  you 
may  not  have  discovered." 

"  What  is  that  ?" 

"  His  love  of  whisky." 


32  THE    C  K  JbJ  u  .u  j*    ORPHANS. 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes ;  but  it  is  the  failing  of  the  race,  and  more 
particularly  of  his  tribe." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"Pierre  is  a  Zambo,  the  most  miserable  and  de 
graded  race  we  have ;  selfish,  cunning  and  thieving. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  attach  them  to  you  by  kind 
ness,  so  as  to  be  secure  from  their  treachery.  But  he 
is  better  than  his  race  generally,  and  Pierre  is  not  de 
void  of  some  points  of  good  sense.  He  is  exceedingly 
shrewd,  and  one  would  not  discover  it  at  first.  I  have 
seen  his  countenance  change  in  a  moment  from  a  look 
of  intelligence  to  one  of  almost  apparent  idiocy  ;  but 
it  is  only  when  he  has  some  end  of  his  own  to  serve." 

"  Well,-  Pierre  has  been  giving  me  a  description  of 
a  lake  near  here,  where  he  says  one  may  have  some 
sport,  fishing." 

"  That  much  is  true,  Mr.  Hartley  ;  and  if  you  say 
so,  I  will  have  some  provisions  put  up;  and,  if  you 
will  go  down  the  bayou  to  the  lake,  I  will  ride  over, 
get  two  friends,  and  join  you  at — s&y  twelve  o'clock." 

"  Could  you  not  accompany  me?" 

"  I  have  an  engagement  until  ten ;  but  you  may 
confidently  look  for  us.  I  will  make  a  servant  put  up 
something,  and  you  can  take  Pierre  and  Florat, — one 
for  fish,  and  the  other  for  game.  Take  a  gun  along, 
and  my  word  for  it,  your  visit  will  be  repaid." 

"  I  should  like  "much  indeed  to  go  ;  but  who  is  this 
Florat?" 

"  He  is  a  yellow  Creole  boy,  about  thirteen  years  old. 
He  knows  every  turn  in  the  swamp,  every  crook  in 
the  bayou,  and  every  hole  in  the  lake.  He  knows  all 
the  fish  by  sight,  and  the  alligators  by  name ;  can 
shoot  better,  and  scream  louder,  and  is  the  greatest 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  33 

little  devil  that  you  ever  saw.  However,  you  will  find 
out  all'  about  him,  and  be  regularly  introduced  by 
Pierre." 

"  I  then  avail  myself  of  your  kindness,  colonel." 

"  I  will  bring  with  me  a  particular  friend,  Doctor 
Grant,  and  another — a  real  hot-blooded  Southerner — 
Mr.  Herndon,  a  Creole — a  true  specimen  of  an  intelli 
gent,  high-minded  and  pure  Louisianian.  He  has  but 
one  fault,  and  that  is  his  antipathy  to  abolitionists. 
He  will  reason  with  you  for  hours  on  slavery,  which.  1 
think  is  the  most  tedious  thing  in  the  world." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  meet  your  friends ;  but, 
about  the  arguments  in  regard  to  slavery,  Mr.  Hern 
don  will  have  a  one-sided  affair,  as  I  am  now  con 
vinced  of  Northern  ignorance  in  the  premises." 

"  We  have  the  glory  of  one  more  proselyte,  then," 
said  the  colonel,  laughing.  "  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear 
it,  and  Hernden  will  meet  you  as  a  brother.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  fiery  fellows  you  ever  saw  ;  but  there 
breathes  no  nobler  spirit  then  his.  At  the  same  time 
he  is  courteous  in  his  reasoning.  But  this  is  one  of 
his  favorite  topics,  and  he  always  broaches  it  to  a 
Northerner.  He  is  only  the  type  of  a  class  in  the 
South." 

2* 


CHAPTER    Y. 


Here  in  its  gay  network  and  fantastic  twine, 
The  purple  cogul  threads  from  pine  to  pine  ; 
And  oft  as  the  fresh  airs  of  morning  breathe, 
Dips  its  long  tendrils  in  the  stream  beneath  ; 
And,  'mid  the  cedar's  darksome  boughs,  illumes, 
"With  instant  touch,  the  lori's  scarlet  plumes." 


Tl/TOKlSriMT  came,  and  with  it  the  singing  birds,  and 
•f  pleasant  breeze,  rustling  among  the  green  leaves 
of  the  live  oaks  and  orange  boughs,  making  a  gentle, 
mysterious  whispering  ;  as  if  the  spirits  of  the  forest 
were  holding  a  soft  and  low-toned  colloquy.  Then, 
too,  was  heard  the  sound  of  the  cowboy  as  he  cracked 
his  whip,  and  began  a  rude  melody,  while  the  cattle- 
bell  kept  up  a  sort  of  time.  There  was  the  glad  neigh 
of  the  horses,  and  the  happy  voices  of  the  negroes,  as 
they  went,  refreshed  after  a  night's  rest,  to  their  work 
through  the  waving  cane. 

In  the  orange-trees,  now  heavy  with  their  golden 
burden,  sat  one  mocking-bird;  while,  perched  on  a 
shrub  in  the  garden,  was  another,  both  making  the 
air  melodious  with  their  rich  pipings.  The  atmosphere 
was  laden  with  sweetness  from  the  rare  exotics  which 
found  a  place  in  the  garden. 

All  these  combined,  make  a  happy  association  of 
sights  and  sounds  ;  and  where  can  a  man  find  them 
with  more  facility  than  in  a  well-ordered  Southern 
plantation  ? 


THE    CREOLE*  ORPHANS.  85 

And  then,  when  the  rolling  season  commences, 
there  is  the  sound  of  the  cart-driver's  whip,  the  shout 
of  the  boys,  the  rattle  of  the  cane-wagons,  the  hurried 
rush  to  the  sugar-house,  as  they  tumble  their  load  of 
cane  out,  and  give  place  for  others,  at  the  foot  of  the 
cane  carrier. 

The  rushing  of  fires  at  different  furnaces — the  hiss 
of  steam  as  the  engineer  touches  a  guage-cock — the 
merry  laugh  and  jest  of  the  cane  carrier  feeders  as  they 
throw  on  the  saccharine  load — the  distant  sound  of  the 
cutter's  song,  and  the  hoarse  roar  of  the  engine — the 
huge  wreath,  of  steam  from  the  kettles,  with  the  smell 
of  cooked  sugar.  Then  to  go  in ;  to  the  right  the 
engine  labors,  it  heaves  and  pants  like  some  monster 
in  pain,  as  its  governor-balls  fly  round,  and  the  im 
mense  wheels  revolve..  The  sugar-mill  is  at  work. 
See  those  ponderous  cylinders  of  iron ;  observe  as  they 
turn  how  they  crush  and  break  the  cane-stalk ;  and 
see  the  juice  in  a  liquid  stream  of  syrup,  as  it  runs 
below  to  the  pan,  to  be  caught  in  the  juice  boxes, 
while  the  worthless  mass,  now  deprived  of  all  its 
sweetness,  is  thrown  upon  the  bagasse  shoat,  and  car 
ried  away  to  enter  into  the  constituents  of  a  new  crop. 
Then  see  the  operation.  A  trap  is  raised,  a  rush  of 
juice,  thick,  discolored  and  filthy — the  grand  is  filled 
— it  is  there  limed  and  clarified,  and  passes  thence  to 
the  other  kettles.  In  the  kettles  it  boils  and  writhes 
and  foams  ;  it  is  skimmed ;  thrown  back  and  inspis 
sated  by  the  action  of  heat,  until  it  is  time  to  make  a 
strike.  At  each  kettle  stands  a  negro  man ;  his  business 
is  to  skim  and  dip,  and  to  pass  the  liquid  from  one 
kettle  to  another. 

Now  they  are  going  to  run  the  syrup  from  the 
battery.  How  rich  and  odorous  1  There  it  is  in  ft 


36  THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS. 

cooler,  where  it  will  remain  to  granulate.  Amid  all 
this  creaking  machinery  and  boiling,  these  seething 
masses  of  syrup,  and  clouds  of  steam,  stands  the  plant 
er — the  type  of  the  true  gentleman.  He  is  there  the 
"monarch  of  all  he  surveys;"  dressed  in  Attakapas 
cottonade,  a  Panama  hat  on  his  head,  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth,  and  an  eye  to  all  around  him.  He  looks  into 
the  kettles ;  then  his  gaze  is  turned  to  the  engine. 
Again  he  tries  the  density  of  the  syrup  with  the  syrup- 
guage  or  saccharometer,  and  quickly  his  eyes  are  scan 
ning  the  operation  Spotting  sugar  in  the  purgery. 

We  might  here  draw  a  comparison  between  the 
southern  manufactory,  where  the  labor  is  all  our  own, 
and  the  manufactory  of  the  North.  Friend  of  New 
England,  turn  your  philanthropic  eyes  a  moment  here. 
Do  you  see  that  big,  fat,  greasy  negro  at  this  kettle, 
with  a  broad  grin  on  his  countenance  ?  See  his  inde 
pendence,  view  his  air.  Do  you  see  the  sign-manual 
of  despair  on  his  brow  ?  Are  there  starvation  and  care 
and  want  in  that  countenance?  There  is  another — 
that  one  feeding  the  rolls,  see  with  what  an  air  he 
chews  his  tobacco,  and  squirts  it  independently  around ; 
then  stopping,  throwing  his  hands  around  him  to 
warm  them  by  the  quick  motion,  ends  with  a  "  Whoh  1" 
Are  care  and  ill  treatment  marked  on  that  physiog 
nomy?  And  see  those  five  or  six  who  have  just 
had  their  breakfast,  good  bread,  meat,  and  coffee. 
Hear  their  careless,  happy  uHah!  ha!  ha!"  Is  this 
the  sound  of  woe  and  mourning?  Where  are  the 
whip  and  chains  and  branding  iron  ? 

For  shame — Pab,  that  any  set  of  people  as  "  smart" 
as  the  Yankees  acknowledge  themselves  to  be,  should 
be  so  miserably  gulled,  so  humbugged  with  the  raw- 
head  and  bloody-bone  stories,  which  their  abolition 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  37 

leaders,  their  pamphlets  and  public  journals  teach.  But 
it  is  no  joke  which  the  Northern  manufactory  presents. 
There  you  have  the  sunken  eye,  the  haggard  cheek, 
the  gloomy  brow,  for  they  are  freemen!  God  save 
the  mark  !  freemen !  A  sickly  wife,  a  few  wretched, 
squalid,  starving  children,  and  miserable  wages  to 
barely  keep  body  and  soul  together.  Are  there  not 
some  of  them  who  would  exchange  situations  with 
our  happy  negro  ?  well  fed,  well  clothed ;  lightly 
worked ;  in  ill  health  or  good,  plenty  is  before  him ; 
kind  attention  during  illness,  and  no  pang  of  agony, 
as  he  surveys  his  children,  for  they  are  taken  care  of. 
Far-seeing  Yankee,  before  you  utterly  condemn  us, 
come  to  the 

"  Land  of  the  cedar  and  vine ; 
"Where  the  flowers  ever  blossom,  the  beams  ever  shine." 

Judge  us  calmly  and  fairly,  and  acknowledge  that 
you  have  had  an  erroneous  idea  of  slavery. 

It  was  again  a  balmy  morning  when  Mr.  Hartley 
was  aroused  by  old  Pierre ;  and,  hastily  swallowing  a 
cup  of  coffee,  he  shouldered  his  gun,  and,  finding 
Flgrat  below  with  a  basket  of  provisions,  set  forth  on 
his  errand  of  destruction.  Florat  was  a  lively  fellow, 
active  as  a  monkey,  and  full  of  mischief.  At  about 
one  fourth  of  a  mile  from  the  sugar-house  was  the 
beginning  of  the  bayou,  which  terminated  in  the  lake. 
This  bayou  supplied  the  water,  which  was  used  in  the 
boilers,  and  about  the  building  generally.  At  its 
commencement  it  was  wide,  clear  and  deep.  A  skiff 
had  been  placed  in  the  bayou  for  fishing  in  the  lake. 
It  had  now  been  pushed  up  to  the  bank.  Florat  leaped 
in,  and  arranged  old  Pierre's  jacket  in  the  stern  for 
Mr.  Hartley,  who  entered.  Pierre  then  shoved  off, 


38  T  HE    CEEOLE    CEPHAS'S. 

and,  adjusting  the  seats,  selected  a  pair  of  oars  and 
began  to  pull.  Hartley  remarked  that  lie  seemed  to 
scan  the  provisions  closely. 

"  What  are  you  looking  after,  Pierre  ?"  he  asked. 

"Why  you  see,  sah,"  answered  he,  looking  very 
grave ;  •  "  wheneber  I  comes  dis  way  I  likes  to  fetch 
long'  a  drop  of  sperits ;  it  keeps  off  de  fluvia  of  de 
swamp ;  and  a  fellow  he  is  a  heap  more  lucky  when 
he  is  got  it  long  wid  him." 

Hartley  burst  out  into  a  loud  laugh  at  the  philosophy 
of  Pierre. 

"  How  do  you  account  for  that,  Pierre?" 

"  Donno,  sah,  only  you  see  dis  fishing  is  a  raal 
scientific  tech ;  you  has  to  give  your  hand  a  kind  of 
tremblin'  motion,  jest  to  make  de  fish  tink  de  ting 
is  live ;  for  you  see  de  fish  heap  rather  hab  de  fun  of 
killin'  his  victuals  than  to  find  it  dead.  He  is  just 
like  folks  bout  dat,  for  you  see,  sah,  dars  a  natural 
instinct  in  a  man  what  makes  him  love  to  kill." 

"  Well,  you  are  about  half  right,  Pierre,  and  I  sup 
pose  you  have  not  had  your  morning  dram  yet." 

"Hal  ha!  ha!"  laughed  he.  "  Well,  Massa  Hart 
ley,  you  is  de  best  guesser  I  is  ever  seed.  I  ain't  dat, 
jist  give  me  a  dram  or  two  and  I'll  make  dis  old  skiff 
go  same  like  a  steamboat.  Lord,  sah,  when  I  has 
got  some  old  rye  in  me,  I  is  a  horse !  Tank  you 
very  kindly,  sah,"  he  continued,  smacking  his  lips  with 
peculiar  gout,  as  he  allowed  the  liquor  to  slowly  trickle 
down  his  throat.  "  I  wish  I  could  have  dat  feeling 
foreber.  Lord,  sah,  de  preacher  says  dat  dis  whisky 
was  Vented  by  de  devil ;  but  its  my  'pinion  dat  it  is 
de  pure  juice  of  Pardice." 

Florat  grinned  with  delight  as  he  listened  to  Pierre. 
They  proceeded  down  the  bayou,  under  the  sturdy 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  39 

strokes  of  the  oar,  enlivened  and  spiced  by  the  odd 
sayings  of  Pierre,  and  the  screams  of  Florat,  as  he 
struck  at  some  unlucky  young  alligator,  which,  swim 
ming  along,  showed  itself  near  the  boat,  or,  as  he 
stabbed  in  the  water  desperately  at  a  gasper  gow,  as  it 
lay  listlessly  before  the  bow. 

The  banks  of  the  bayou  were  of  soft  mold,  and 
were  clothed  to  the  bluff  edge  with  weeds,  bright  wild 
flowers  and  mutton  cane.  Every  thing  was  quiet, 
save  the  trill  of  the  mocking-bird,  the  wild  carol  of 
the  blackbird,  or  the  melodious  warble  of  the  gold 
finch,  as  he  poised  himself  on  the  topmost  twig  of  a 
tree  near  by.  Then  there  was  the  hum  of  the  bee, 
the  whirl  of  the  musqueto-hawk,  and  mayhap  the  leap 
of  the  fish  in  the  sluggish  stream  ahead ;  or  the 
scream  of  a  crane  as  it  flew  off  and  threw  out  its  un 
gainly  neck  and  legs ;  or  the  dash  of  a  dozen  turtles, 
as  they  splashed  from  a  rotten  log  into  the  water. 

"  Dat  is  a  very  curous  insect,  sah,"  exclaimed  Pierre, 
pausing  a  moment  in  his  labor,  and  wiping  the  per 
spiration  from  his  brow,  on  which  it  stood  in  great 
beads. 

"What,  Pierre?" 

"Why,  dem  cooters,  dey  is  fulfillm  the.  Scripture, 
sah." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  Why,  sah,  dey  is  always  watching;  and  dey  is  as 
hard  to  catch  napping  as  a  hard-shell  Baptist." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !"  shouted  Florat. 

"De  cooter  is  de  boatman, 
De  jay  bird  de  lawyer, 
De  mocking-bird  do  preacher, 
De  alligator  sawyer, 
Ha,  ha,  hah!  whoop  pel' 


40  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  Wh — wli — what  you  for  making  all  dat  fuss  for, 
you  black  rascal,"  exclaimed  Pierre;  turning  and 
making  a  back-handed  lick  at  him,  while  he  dodged 
the  blow  and  sprang  back  laughing. 

Swiftly  they  glided  on.  Suddenly  Pierre  ceased 
pulling,  and  laying  down  his  oars,  clapped  his  hand 
on  his  stomach,  commenced  making  a  good  many  ugly 
faces,  which  he  designed  as  expressive  of  pain. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Pierre?"  asked  Hartley. 

"Oh!  Massa  Hartley,"  groaned  he;  "I  is  in  a 
'siderable  deal  of  pain  in  de  region  of  de  abominable." 

"In  the  what?"  asked  he,  laughing  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"  In  de  abominable,  sah,"  groaned  Pierre ;  pressing 
harder  on  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  "Oh  I  ah  !  ugh  !" 

"  "Well,  what  must  I  do  for  you,  Pierre  ?"  asked 
Hartley.  "  What  must  I  give  you?" 

"  Well,  sah,  I  don't  know.  I  don't  think  dat  nothin' 
never  does  me  any  good  but  a  little  sperits.  Oh! 
ugh!  ah!" 

Hartley  saw  through  the  ruse  in  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  I  see  what  is  the  matter  with  you — a  touch 
of  cholera.  Here,  Pierre,  take  a  dram." 

Pierre  seized  the  flask  eagerly,  put  it  to  his  mouth, 
and  took  a  long  pull — then  drawing  a  deep  breath,  re 
turned  it,  saying :  "  Ah !  dat  liquor  has  got  a  great 
head,  sure.  I  feels  considerable  better  now,  sah." 

"  Yery  well,  Pierre,"  laughed  Hartley ;  "  you  are 
naw  to  remember  that  you  are  not  to  have  a  pain  in 
your  *  abominable'  again  until  this  evening.  Then 
you  may  have  it  very  slightly.  Do  you  hear,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  sah,"  grinned  Pierre. 

They  had  now  reached  the  wider  part  of  the  bayou, 
immediately  before  its  connection  with  the  lake ;  and 


THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS.  41 

a  singular  sight  to  the  eyes  of  a  Northerner  presented 
itself.  A  sheet  of  water  of  some  three  miles  in  extent, 
surrounded  on  three  sides  with  &  virgin  forest  of  tall 
cypress  and  gum  was  spread  out  before  him.  There 
were  several  small  islands  in  it.  The  whole  forest 
was  clothed  in  a  garb  of  melancholy  gray  moss,  which 
hung  from  the  topmost  boughs  in  heavy  waving 
masses,  hoary  and  ancient,  nearly  to  the  water.  Every 
thing  around  seemed  locked  in  a  trance.  Yast  -trees 
with  no  undergrowth,  like  pillars  in  some  immense 
cathedral,  with  this  solemn  drapery  around  them,  un 
broken  by  any  opening,  bounded  the  prospect.  Far 
off  stood  hundreds  of  large  white  cranes,  motionless, 
and  gazing  silently  in  the  water — while  the  solitary 
heron  fished  around  the  edge,  ever  and  anon  uttering 
his  peculiar  and  dismal  cry.  Upon  many  logs  which 
were  floating  in  the  water,  lay  sleeping  alligators, 
whom  the  warmth  of  the  day  had  awakened  from  their 
torpor,  to  feel  the  warm  sun  ;  and  thousands  of  turtle 
of  all  sizes  dotted  other  logs  and  islets;  and  often 
would  be  seen  the  flounce  of  some  fish  as  it  tried  to 
escape  the  jaws  of  the  ravenous  alligator-gar.  The 
southern  side  of  the  lake  was  shallow,  and  filled  with 
brush,  swamp-reeds,  and  decayed  logs.  Here  the 
congo  and  the  venomous  moccasin  held  dominion, 
and  battened  with  the  toad,  and  immense  water-spiders, 
in  the  mass  of  decaying  and  offensive  mud,  and  ooze 
and  leaves  and  slime. 

The  opposite  side  of  the  lake  was  a  bluff  bank,  dry 
and  pleasant ;  the  water  deep,  cool  and  clear,  and  a 
grateful  shade  was  afforded.  Here  the  boat  was 
directed,  and  they  then  proceeded  to  dispose  of  the 
hamper  of  provisions  which  Colonel  Ormond  had  caused 


42  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

to  be  brought.     It  was  lugged  out,  and  placed  at  tlie 
root  of  a  noble  haekberrj-tree. 

"When  this  was  done,  Pierre  began  his  preparations 
for  a  morning's  sport.  He  collected  bait  with  a  hand- 
net,  and  uncoiled  his  lines. 

"  Now,  Massa  Hartley,  suppose  you  try  your  hand 
at  a  fish,  here  be  de  lines,  and  I  'spect  dat  de  fish  bite 
mighty  well  dis  mornin'.  Now,  you  Florf  you  look 
alive,  and  scoop  up  some  bait." 

Florat,  acting  upon  this  hint,  stepped  out  upon  a 
log;  and  after  scooping,  as  Pierre  called  it,  returned 
presently  with  a  handful  of  minnows.  These  were 
were  quickly  impaled  on  the  hooks. 

"Now,  Massa  Hartley,  does  you  take  de  lead  here, 
sah.  You  perceive  dat  hook  has  got  de  insect  on  it — • 
dat's  mighty  good  bait  for  a  hongry  trout.  I  drops 
him  in  so,  and  gin  him  a  switch ;"  and  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  he  drew  his  line  gently  over  the 
water,  so  as  to  disturb  it  slightly.  He  then  let  the 
cork  float  out  slowly.  The  result  was  in  a  moment 
he  had  a  large  white  trout  hung ;  and,  after  a  minute's 
delay,  he  laid  it  gasping  on  the  bank. 

Hartley  admired  the  dexterity  of  the  old  fisherman, 
who  evidently  enjoyed  his  triumph.  Florat  tried  his 
luck,  and  with  the  like  success.  Hartley  then  seized 
the  pole,  which  Pierre  handed  him,  and  commenced. 
At  first  it  appeared  as  if  his  line  was  avoided — but  at 
length  he  saw  a  large  perch  make  a  dash — he  met  it, 
made  his  sweep,  and  up  came  the  fish. 

Thus  varied  the  sport ;  many  trout  and  perch  were 
pulled  up  by  each,  until  a  goodly  lot  lay  on  the  bank, 
and  they  even  began  to  tire  of  the  amusement.  Hart 
ley  was  entertained  by  the  oddities  of  Pierre,  and  the 
remarks  of  Florat. 


THE    CKEOLE    OEPHANS.  43 

So  passed  the  morning ;  when  Hartley  thought  it 
was  nearly  time  for  Colonel  Ormond  to  arrive.  He 
therefore  laid  himself  down  on  the  bank,  in  the  shade. 

"  Pierre,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  would  like  to  hear  a 
good  fish  story." 

Pierre  remained  silent  a  moment ;  then,  looking  up, 
replied,  "  I  'spect  it  is  almost  time  to  repeat  dat  drink, 
sah.  You  know  de  Bible  says  you  can't  do  a  good 
thing  too  often." 

"  Well,"  laughed  he,  "  Pierre,  I  will  give  you  a 
drink  if  you  will  tell  me  a  good  story  about  fishing." 

"  "Well,  sah,  dat 's  a  bargain.  I  knows  one  dat's 
almost  as  good  as  poor  old  Jonah  an'  dat  big  whale." 

Hartley  gave  him  the  flask,  and,  after  a  long 
draught  and  a  deep  sigh,  he  began  : 

"You  see,  sah,  dat  dis  massa  ain't  defust  one  I  eber 
had.  I  'longed  to  ole  massa,  dis  one's  father.  "Wall, 
he  used  to  have  a  heap  ob  company,  and  he  thought 
a  mighty  much  ob  me.  One  day,  says  he,  l  Pierre, 
go  down  to  de  lake,  and  get  a  big  mess  of  fish.  Some 
gentlemen  is  gwine  to  dine  wid  me  to-day.'  I  sets 
off.  You  see  dat  bay -tree  dar,  wid  de  branch  broke 
off  near  de  top  ?  Well :  I  come  down,  and  I  sets 
right  down  dar,  and  goes  to  work.  De  way  I  pulled 
up  de  fish  were  a  considerable  caution.  I  got  toleble 
tired  arter  a  while,  and  so,  to  rejoice  my  innards,  I 
took  a  pull  at  a  little  bottle  I  carried  long  wid  me  ; 
and  den  I  sets  to  stringing  my  fish.  When  I  finish 
dat,  I  puts  'em  in  de  water  to  kinder  freshen  dem, 
and  lights  my  pipe  to  have  a  smoke.  I  had  not  set 
dar  for  more  than  five  minutes,  looking  in  the  water 
and  a  meditatin'  on  dis  world,  when  I  seed  a  whirl, 
and  a  great,  big,  long,  sneaking  alligator-gar,  come  a 
stealing  on  toward  de  bank.  He  was  a  sailing  'long 


44  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

like  a  dog  going  to  steal  in  a  meat-house.  I  thought 
I  would  watch  and  say  nothin'  to  him.  Well,  sah  :* 
he  kept  coming  closer  and  closer  ;  and  den  he  all  of 
a  sudden  made  a  grab,  and  he  nailed  my  whole  string 
of  fish.  Off  he  went  like  de  debil  was  after  him. 
Well,  now,  dar  was  a  mad  nigger  about  in  dem  times. 
I  naterally  danced  like  a  congo.  I  hollered  arter  him 
just  to  leff  half  of  em  to  come  back ;  but  he  dident 
pay  no  more  'tention  to  me  than  if  I  was  a  blind 
puppy. 

"So  I  took  another  drink  and  cussed,  and  had 
to  go  to  work  and  catch  another  mess  of  fish.  "When 
I  got  home,  dinner  was  ober,  and  massa  said  I  was  a- 
drunken  rascal ;  but  he  dident  whip  me.  Old  massa 
was  mighty  good  dat  way,  he  was.  Oh !  lor,  I  used 
to  fool  him  mighty  bad  sometimes.  Well,  sah:  I 
just  swore  I  was  gwine  to  match  dat  gar ;  so  I  got  de 
blacksmith  to  make  me  a  big  hook.  I  den  got  two 
plow-lines,  and  next  day  come  down  here.  I  tied 
one  end  to  de  boat,  and  baited  de  oder  with  a  piece 
of  one  of  ole  massa's  little  pigs.  I  pushed  out,  and 
lay  down  to  watch.  Every  now  and  den  I  look  over 
de  side.  Presently  I  see  dat  same  great  big  gar  come 
stealing  long.  I  knowed  him  by  de  big  green  eyes. 
He  was  a  smellin'  round,  and  sidlin'  up  to  de  bait, 
like  a  highland  nigger  to  a  coast  gal.  After  a  while 
he  made  a  grab  and  seized  it.  Den  he  know  sure 
enough  dat  it  was  good  to  eat.  It  was  soon  in  his 
belly ;  and  den  it  was  dat  he  found  out  dar  was 
something  inside  of  it ;  for  he  tried  to  cough,  but  de 
hook  got  fixed  in  his  chitlins,  and  he.  give  a  jerk. 
Dat  gin  him  de  cholic,  and  he  got  wrathy.  He 
opened  his  mouth  and  tried  hard  to  get  it  up.  He 
snorted,  and  den  off  he  put.  Lord,  sah !  you  is 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  45 

hearn  tell  of  yearthquakes :  he  made  clat  old  boat 
howl  through  de  water  as  if  de  debil  was  chained  to 
her,  and  he  went  by  steam.  De  '  Diana'  wa'n't  no 
whar  to  her.  Bound  and  round  de  lake  we  went,  like 
a  streak  of  greasy  lightnin'.  We  went  faster  and 
faster.  Sometimes  he  would  jump  plum  out  ob  de 
water,  and  den  he  would  jerk  away  one  side,  and  de 
water  would  bile  and  foam  round  us  like  soapsuds. 
At  last  he  seemed  tarmined  to  get  rid  of  me  any 
how,  and  he  took  a  big  sweep  round  de  lake :  he 
made  my  head  swim.  He  went  round  it  a  hundred 
and  ten  times;  I  counted  it.  Eound  and  round  he 
went,  wid  his  fins  stickin'  straight  behind,  and  his 
head  tacked  down.  Dis  de  way." 

Here  Pierre  commenced  a  series  of  evolutions,  and 
turned  with  great  velocity  to  give  a  practical  illustra 
tion  of  his  story.  Poor  fellow  I  he  went  around  once 
too  often,  and  his  feet  catching  in  a  root,  he  went, 
doubled  up,  over  the  bank,  in  about  ten  feefr  of  water, 
head  foremost. 

Hartley  dropped  down  on  the  ground,  in  an  agony 
of  laughter.  Florat  hugged  a  sapling  to  steady  him 
self,  and  gave  full  vent  to  a  series  of  unearthly  noises, 
intended  for  laughter  ;  and,  failing  to  relieve  himself 
in  this  manner,  he  let  go  all  hold,  and  turned  several 
summersets,  to  the  great  delight  of  himself. 

Old  Pierre  managed  to  get  hold  of  some  roots, 
and  scrambled  out.  The  old  fellow  was  considerably 
cut  down ;  but  Hartley,  still  laughing,  prescribed  a 
dose  of  brandy,  which  soon  set  him  in  a  good  humor 
again. 

After  some  time,  he  said,  "  Well,  Pierre,  and  then 
what^happened  ?" 

He  studied  a  moment,  and,  with  a  quiet  grin,  re- 


46  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

plied,  "  Well,  sail :  dat  gar  ran  around  de  lake  so  often 
dat  his  head  'gan  to  swim ;  and  at  last  he  got  so  mad, 
and  so  blind,  dat  he  just  jumped  ashore,  and  busted 
his  head  right  open  agin  a  cypress-tree." 

"  That  is  a  very  remarkable  tale,  Pierre." 

"  Dat  de  fact,  sah ;  and  it 's  tr^e,  too,  for  I  seed  it 
my  own  self;  and,  what 's  more,  I  has  got  dat  same 
old  hook,  what  I  cut  out  of  him,  now  at  home  in  my 
cabin." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !"  laughed  Florat, 

"  Look  here,  now  1"  exclaimed  he,  turning  to 
Florat  in  a  rage  ;  "  Don't  you  go,  you  yaller  nigger, 
to  be  makin'  fun  out  ob  me.  I'll  bust  you  open,  sure !" 

"  Well,  Pierre,  you  and  Florat  get  to  dressing  some 
of  those  fish ;  and,  by  the  time  Colonel  Ormond  comes, 
we  will  have  dinner  ready." 

"  Well,  if  there  is  any  thing  I  does  know  any  thing 
'bout,  it  is  fixing  up  fish.  Dere's  Doctor  Grant:  he 
give  you  a  kick  wid  one  foot,  and  throw  you  a  half 
a  dollar  at  de  same  tune.  He  make  de  greatest  fuss 
'bout  fish,  and  Florat  always  bring  curry  out  for  him. 
I  can  beat  him  a-cookin  a  long  way.  Some  of  dese 
white  folks,  dey  tink  dey  is  mighty  smart." 

"  Doubtless,  Pierre." 

"  Yes,  sirree  I  and  dey  don't  'preciate  a  nigger,  no 
how.  Now,  you  does.  Oh !  Mass  a  Hartley,  if  you 
was  my  massa  now." 

"  God  forbid !  Pierre,"  laughed  Hartley. 

"Dey  don't  treat  old  niggers  now  as  dey  used  to' 
do." 

"  Ah !  how  is  that,  Pierre  ?  don't  you  get  enough 
to  eat?" 

"Plenty,  sah." 

"Are  you  overworked?" 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  47 

"No  sah,  I  doesent  do  no  work,  'cept  'bout  de  gar 
den  and  yard." 

"  What  then  have  you  to  complain  of?" 

"  Why  sah !  I  ain't  complainin',  I  is  satisfied  very 
well."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  looking  at  Hartley 
in  an  arch  manner,  asked — 

"Ain't  de  niggers  free  in  de  country  you  comes 
from,  sah?" 

"  Yes,  Pierre,  they  are  free." 

"  And  mighty  happy  and  rich  dey*  is,  sah,  ain't 
dey?" 

"  Happy  I  no, '  the  poorest,  most  miserable,  dirty, 
sickly  devils  in  the  world,  starving  and  dying  by  the 
hundreds,  and  hated  and  despised  by  the  whites." 

"  Dat  ain't  what  some  of  de  white  folks  tells  me, 
sah!" 

"What  white  folks,  Pierre  ?" 

"  Why,  dem  men  what  comes  down  in  de  flat-boats, 
and  sells  whisky  to  de  niggers.  I  has  had  a  heap  of 
dem  to  beg  me  to  run  away  ;  but  I  is  too  old." 

"You  would  only  ^  regret  it  once,  Pierre,  and  that 
would  be  always." 

"  May  be  so,  sah  !  I  has  had  my  suspicions  dat  dey 
was  fooling  us,  and  was  only  mad  case  dey  dident 
have  no  niggers  dey  self." 

"  Perhaps  so,  and  you  ought  to  be  satisfied." 

"  I  is,  sah  1  only  I  don't  like  de  way  some  folks  does ; 
my  massa  is  a  good  man,  he  won't  let  de  overseer  hit 
one  ob  us ;  but  he  seem  to  tink  sometimes,  dat  old 
niggers  never  wares  out." 

"  Why,  Pierre !  it  appears  to  me  that  you  are  treated 
as  well  as  you  deserve."  .  ' 

"  Dat  may  be  so,  sah,  but  my  massa  ain't  like  my 
ole  massa  was ;  we  ain't  got  no  regular  misses.  Now 


48  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Miss  Marie  she  is  mighty  good,  but  it  ain't  like  a  sure 
enough  one." 

"Well,  Pierre,"  exclaimed  Hartley,  "I  have  an 
opinion  of  my  own,  that  you  are  an  ungrateful  scoun 
drel."  He  saw  through  the  manner  of  Pierre  in  a 
moment;  negro-like  he  only  wanted  to  be  encouraged, 
to  villify  and  calumniate  one  of  the  best  of  masters ; 
so  he  bade  him  go  to  work  and  shut  his  mouth. 

This  he  obeyed,  and  assisted  Florat  to  make  a  fire, 
and  prepare  a  meal  for  the  expected  arrivals. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


'  In  friendly  discourse  whiled  the  time  away ; 
And  slaves,  obedient  to  the  call,  did  spread 
Upon  the  velvet  grass  the  banquet  rare." 

'  Come  to  the  woods  in  whoso  mossy  dells 
A  light  all  made  for  the  poet  dwells ; 
Come,  while  in  freshness  and  dew  it  lies, 
To  the  world  that  is  under  the  free  blue  sky." 

HEMAKB. 


TTARTLEY,  after  casting  his  eye  on  the  scaly  oper- 
•*••*•  ations  going  on,  shouldered  the  gun  which  had 
been  brought  along,  and  sauntered  off  into  the  woods. 
As  he  advanced,  the  forest  grew  thicker  and  darker. 
Vast  trees,  a  century  or  two  old,  all  bearded  with  the 
solemn  gray  moss,  extended  as  far  as  he  could  see ; 
while  every  few  rods  he  was  compelled  to  make  a  cir 
cuitous  rout  to  avoid  small  lakes  and  boggy  places. 

After  wandering  more  than  an  hour  in  these  dim 
old  woods,  and  listening  to  the  rustling  of  the  ancient 
cypress  without  seeing  any  game  worthy  of  a  shot,  he 
started  to  return. 

Suddenly  he  paused,  he  heard,  a  voice' — he  listened, 
it  was  only  old  Pierre.  He  retraced  his  steps  hastily, 
for  just  then  he  remembered  that  he  had  left  the  pro 
visions  unguarded,  and  that  there  were  several  bottles 
of  wine,  and  one  of  brandy  in  the  basket.  He  hastened 
his  footsteps,  and  upon  arriving  in  sight  of  the  lake, 


50  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

saw  Florat  in  the  boat  fishing,  and  distinctly  heard 
Pierre  singing,  apparently  very  happy.  The  origin 
of  his  merriment  was  suggested.  An  opening  in  the 
woods  gave  him  a  view;  he  paused;  here  was  old 
Pierre  with  a  bottle  in  one  hand,  in  the  act  of  making 
an  extempore  speech,  in  which:  "rally  round  the 
standard,"  "interests  of  de  country,"  "traitors,"  etc. 
etc.,  were  distinguishable.  With  the  other  hand,  he  was 
gesticulating  furiously,  and  had  even  worked  himself 
into  tears.  Hartley  proceeded  on,  and  deep  and  low 
were  his  objurgations  of  Pierre.  He  came  again  in 
sight  of  him  just  in  time  to  witness  the  closing  scene. 
Pierre  had  changed  it  into  a  private  camp-meeting,  and 
the  burden  of  an  old  negro  song  rang  through  the 
forest.  The  words  which  reached  his  ears,  were — 

"De  big  bell  tolled, 
De  angel  moaned, 
I  invite  de  strangers  home, 
I  'd  rather  pray  my  life  away 
Than  lay  in  torment  half  a  day." 

"Hie,  hie,  hie!"  and  then  the  old  negro  reeled  up, 
utterly  intoxicated. 

Wnen  Hartley  came  up,  his  abuse  was  in  no  meas 
ured  terms.  Florat  excused  himself  saying  that  Pierre 
had  told  him  that  if  he  would  go  out  and  fish,  he 
would  attend  to  cooking ;  but  he  did  not  know  that  he 
was  so  cunning.  He  had  been  delighted  with  the  per 
formance,  though. 

"With  his  assistance.  Hartley  dragged  Pierre  under 
a  tree  to  sleep  off  his  drunkenness,  and  set  Florat  to 
work  at  the  culinary  department. 

Just  then  a  halloo  was  heard,  and  in  a  short  time 
Colonel  Ormond,  accompanied  by  two  gentlemen,  rode 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  51 

up.  They  were  presented  to  Mr.  Hartley,  who  was 
visibly  embarrassed  at  the  situation  in  which  they 
had  encountered  him  and  the  now  oblivious  Pierre ; 
but  the  kind  and  courteous  demeanor  of  the  strangers, 
soon  set  him  at  his  ease.  Upon  a  felicitous  description 
of  Pierre's  mishap,  the  company  were  thrown  into  con 
vulsions  of  laughter,  and  many  jokes  were  cracked  at 
the  old  fellow's  expense. 

Mr.  Hartley  had  leisure  to  examine  his  new  acquaint 
ances.  Mr.  Herndon  was  a  native  of  Louisiana,  his 
parents  having  emigrated  from  Carolina  many  years 
before.  He  was  planting  near  Colonel  Ormond,  and 
was  a  bosom  friend.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome  man, 
with  a  large  blue  eye,  energetic  and  fiery,  hot  and  im 
petuous  when  aroused,-  but  no  girl  of  sixteen  could  be 
more  mild  and  gentle  at  other  times.  He  was  a  sincere 
and  ardent  friend;  a  bitter  and  implacable  enemy. 
He  was  pleasant  and  bland,  and  impressed  Hartley 
favorably.  He  was  dressed  in  light  pantaloons,  with 
a  tight-bodied  blue  coat,  and,  in  his  tout  ensemble,  was 
noble  and  captivating, 

Dr.  Grant,  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  smaller  man, 
thin  and  wiry,  with  bold  but  aquiline  features,  with 
his  perceptive  faculties  largely  developed,  and  an  eye 
dark  and  piercing.  He  was  a  merry,  whole-hearted 
Virginian,  who  after  receiving  his  diploma  at  the  Uni 
versity,  from  the  hands  of  its  founder,  established 
himself  in  the  sunny  South.  Here  he  married,  and 
ties  of  long  association,  and  mutual  esteem,  bound  him 
and  Colonel  Ormond  to  each  other. 

"Come,  gentlemen,  let's  liquor,"  was  the  given  and 
accepted  invitation. 

"  Florat,  be  lively  now,"  said  the  colonel,  "  and  let 
us  see  how  quickly  you  can  have  some  dinner  ready." 


52  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  I  will  take  the  lead  in  the  cooking,"  said  Dr. 
Grant.  "  You  know,  Herndon,  that  the  ladies  say  I 
am  the  most  accomplished  cuisinier  in  the  whole 
parish." 

"  Yes,  doctor,"  he  replied,  "if  you  had  graduated  at 
Tortoni's  in  Paris,  instead  of  in  your  medical  school, 
you  would  have  been  invaluable." 

All  laughed,  and  good-humoredly  assisted  each 
other  in  preparing  the  meal,  enlivening  the  labor  with 
well-seasoned  repartee  and  wit. 

At  length  the  fish  were  frying,  and  a  cloth  from  the 
boat  spread  on  the  leaves,  garnished  with  plates  brought 
for  the  purpose,  and  all  the  little  adjuncts  which  are 
never  neglected  by  those  who  are  accustomed  to  re 
unions  of  this  kind. 

"  Come,  Florat,  now  for  the  curry"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Grant.  "Not  enough  coriander,  too  much  turmeric, 
cayenne  right.  Ormond,  you  should  get  me  to  make 
your  curry  powders ;  I  had  an  old  uncle  who  lived  in 
India,  he  taught  me,  he  made  me  the  gourmand  I  am ; 
and  left  me  nothing  to  support  my  taste.  There 
now,  Florat,  serve  up  some  more." 

We  will  not  weary  the  reader  with  the  dinner  in 
the  woods ;  but  only  hope  he  may  with  old  wine  and 
good  cheer,  spirited  conversation,  and  a  fine  cigar, 
enjoy  such  things  as  heartily  as  we  have  often  enjoyed 
them. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hartley,"  said  Herndon  as  he  leaned 
back  against  a  tree,  puffed  his  cigar,  and  settled  him 
self  comfortably.  "  I  hope  you  enjoy  Southern  life." 

"  Thus  far,"  replied  Mr.  Hartley  smiling  "  I  am  more 
than  satisfied,  I  am  delighted." 

"  Colonel  Ormond  informs  me,  that  you  are  from  the 
land  of  steady  habits,  sir." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  53 

"  I  suppose,  Mr.  Herndon,  I  shall  have  to  confess  to 
that  count — I  am  a  Yankee." 

"  No  disgrace,  Mr.  Hartley,"  he  laughed,  u  I  had 
rather  be  a  Yankee,  any  time,  than  a  Scotchman.  We 
welcome  our  Northern  brethren,  warmly  sir,  when 
they  come  unprejudiced,  to  share  our  hospitality,  but — " 

"  Herndon,"  quickly  cried  Colonel  Ormond,  giving 
him  at  the  same  time  a  meaning  look, 

"Bah!"  laughed  Mr.  Herndon. 

"  Yotre  promesse — " 

"  Si  je  puis."  Then  turning  to  Hartley  he  continued. 
"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Hartley,  that  I  am  under  a  promise 
to  Colonel  Ormond,  to  abstain  from  introducing  the 
subject  of  slavery  to  day  ?" 

"  Well,"  answered  he,  "  I  certainly  appreciate  the 
Colonel's  delicacy,  but  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  it  will 
not  be  disagreeable." 

"  There  now,"  said  Herndon,  turning  to  "Colonel 
Ormond,  "  I  see  that  Mr.  Hartley  is  a  half  Southerner 
already." 

"  I  have  been  only  a  short  time  in  the  South,  but  I 
can  say  that  I  have  been  pleasantly  surprised,  at  the 
difference  of  treatment  to  slaves,  from  what  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  believe." 

"  Yes,  they  are  treated  much  better  than  they  de 
serve  ;  they  are  a  degraded  race,  and,  are  not  suscepti 
ble  of  the  feelings  of  human  beings ;  they  are  pretty 
things  to  make  freemen  of,  any  how.  Now,  Mr.  Hart 
ley,"  he  continued,  turning  and  pointing  to  Pierre. 
"  There  is  an  old  scamp  whom  you  know  is  well-treat 
ed,  fed  and  indulged,  beyond  his  desert.  He  has  as 
kind  a  master  as  ever  lived.  Well,  take  that  negro  as 
an  example.  Talk  with  him  about  his  master,  listen 
to  him,  and,  if  you  are  credulous,  you  will  believe  that 


54  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

that  master  should  have  been  in  the  Penitentiary  ten 
years  since." 

Mr.  Hartley  felt  how  true  this  was,  for  he  had  that 
day  had  it  "brought  home  to  him.  "I  have  always 
heard  that  the  negro  was  grateful  for  kindness,  and 
took  an  interest  in  his  owner's  success." 

"  There  are  honorable  exceptions  to  the  rule  I  have 
laid  down,  Mr.  Hartley,  but  they  are  very  few.  But 
in  general  the  negro  is  so  coarse  in  his  feelings,  that  he 
is  totally  incapable  of  having  a  real  affection  for  his 
owners  ;  he  may  have  a  preference,  but  it  is  all  habit. 
Whip  a  dog,  and  he  will  love  you,  is  an  old  vulgar 
saying,  which  will  apply  to  a  negro ;  for  it  is  a  well-es 
tablished  fact  that  the  more  sternly  and  harshly  they 
are  treated,  the  more  they  will  bear  the  semblance  of 
esteem." 

"  Do  you  not  think  that  the  state  of  slavery  is  the 
cause  of  this  gross  feeling  in  the  negro  ?" 

"  Most  certainly  not ;  they  will  not  bear  liberty,  for  as 
soon  as  the  restraints  which  the  whites  impose  on  them 
are  withdrawn,  they  soon  return  to  a  state  of  barbarism. 
This  is  proven  in  every  country  where  the  law  of 
emancipation  has  passed.  They  are  not  fit  for  it — and 
even  the  colony  now  being  established  in  Liberia  is  gov 
erned  by  white  men,  and  its  affairs  conducted  by  the 
whites  or  mulattoes.  Take  away  the  Circassian,  leave 
the  pure  negro  alone,  and  in  a  few  years  there  would 
not  be  discovered  the  faintest  ray  of  civilization. 

"  Look  at  the  British  possessions  in  the  West 
Indies — a  few  years  since,  the  act  of  emancipation 
passed  the  British  Parliament.  What  is  the  result  ? 
Freedom  to  the  negro!  it  is  a  bitter  boon.  I  have 
traveled  in  Jamaica  and  St.  Domingo,  since  the  negroes 
were  freed.  What  a  change  !  What  a  scene  of  deso- 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  55 

lation  met  my  eyes!  Magnificent  mansions,  which 
once  echoed  to  the  sound  of  happy  voices,  are  silent 
as  the  grave.  Large  fields  once  teeming  with  heavy 
crops  of  cane,  yielding  to  the  inroads  of  a  rank  and 
unwholesome  vegetation,  grown  up  in  bushes,  and 
the  dwelling-place  of  the  viper  and  the  scorpion. 

"  Costly  sugar-houses,  with  expensive  fixtures,  going 
to  decay,  doors  off  their  hinges,  the  grass  growing, 
rank  and  luxuriant,  around  their  once  bustling  courts. 
Machinery  imported  at  immense  cost,  eaten  up  with 
rust.  All  silent  and  untenanted.  The  hearth-stone 
cold,  desolation  and  decay  every  where.  God  keep 
my  beloved  country  from  witnessing  such  a  catas 
trophe!  And  where,  sir,  are  those  once  happy  fami 
lies?  Where?  Scattered  to  the  four  winds  of 
Heaven,  penniless  and  destitute.  And  the  slaves,  too, 
is  their  condition  bettered  ?  Poor,  degraded,  pilfering 
wretches,  dragging  out  a  miserable  existence.  Every 
inducement  offered  to  them  to  improve  their  condition 
— work  and  plenty- — good  wages  and  rewards.  But, 
if  you  would  find  them,  go  to  the  crowded  hospitals, 
the  grog-shops,  and  other  scenes  of  debauchery,  there 
the  free  negro  flourishes  in  all  his  glory.  And  these 
are  the  fruits  of  emancipation — ruining  families,  debas 
ing  servants,  and  converting  fertile  fields  into  a  wilder 
ness  of  bramble  and  thistle.  These  are  the  effects  of 
this  mistaken  system — cursed  be  the  head  which  ever 
conceived  them !  And  even  now,  in  the  face  of  all 
this,  the  government  of  France  is  pursuing  the  same 
ruinous  system.  JSTow,  if  our  friends  at  the  North, 
who  have  an  idea  that  all  the  negro  wants  is  freedom 
to  put  himself  on  a  level,  in  all  respects,  with  the 
white  race,  wish  to  try  it,  there  is  a  field  open  for  their 
experiment." 


56  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

"You  draw  a  very  painful  picture  of  the  effects 
of  emancipation,  Mr.  Herndon,"  said  Mr.  Hartley; 
11  and  although  I  am  not  as  ultra  as  you  are,  still, 
I  must  confess,  that  there  is  much  truth  in  your 
statement." 

"  I  like  you,  Mr.  Hartley,  because  you  are  not  as 
rabid  as  some  I  wot  off,  and  are  willing  to  listen,  and 
do  not  bring  up  the  infernal  cant  of  religion  to  sustain 
you.  I  would  so  much  not  blame  the  foreigner  for 
abusing  our  system,  but  when  the  abuse  comes  from 
our^ brethren,  only  separated  by  a  few  hundred  miles, 
and  they  declare  an  open  and  undying  war  against  us, 
for  the  very  system  by  which  they  live,  and  grow 
wealthy — that  is  more  than  we  can  stand. 

"As  men  are  the  natural  enemies  of  snakes,  and 
other  vermin,  so  am  I  the  foe  of  an  abolitionist.  Here 
they  come,  pressing  themselves  into  the  service  of  our 
negroes — groaning  and  lifting  up  their  eyes  in  pious 
horror.  They  push  their  sympathy  too  far ;  but  by 
their  actions  rivet  the  chains  on  the  slave  faster.  They 
retard  the  prospect  of  future  improvement  in  the 
Northern  slave-holding  states;  and  scatter  the  seeds 
of  discord,  misery,  and  bloodshed  between  us.  And 
all  this  is  done  in  the  name  of  philanthropy.  But, 
Mr.  Hartley,  there  is  a  time  coming  when  *  forbear 
ance  will  cease  to  be  a  virtue ;'  and  when  the  South 
will  no  longer  submit  to  have  their  feelings  outraged — 
their  rights  disregarded — and  their  domestic  relations 
invaded  with  impunity.  The  Southron  will  cease  to 
endure ;  '  will  cease  to  point  calmly  to  the  Constitution ;' 
and  the  Northerner  to  the  '  higher  law ;'  then  will  be 
heard  the  clash  of  arms,  and  then  will  ruin  and  shame 
overcome  us." 

"  God  forbid  1"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hartley. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  57 

"Come,  gentlemen,  let's  liquor,"  cried  Dr.  Grant, 
trying  to  divert  the  conversation. 

"  Now,"  said  Colonel  Ormond,  as  soon  as  the  liquor 
had  been  dispatched ;  "I  have  one  word  to  say — I 
have  been  listening  to  Herndon  attentively — and  I 
can  not  but  admit  that  he  has  expressed  my  feelings 
much  better  than  I  could.  I  noticed  a  remark  made 
about  the  gratitude  of  negroes.  That  virtue  is  not 
in  their  catalogue.  I  will  relate  an  instance,  a  real 
fact,  none  of  your  fancy  sketches  got  up  for  effect. 

"  A  Northern  gentleman,  a  lawyer  of  ability,  settled 
some  years  ago  in  one  of  the  Florida  parishes  in  this 
State.  He  very  soon  commanded  a  share  of  business. 
He  married  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  old  planter 
in  an  adjoining  parish.  The  planter  owned  negroes, 
and,  of  course,  the  son-in-law  inherited  through  his 
wife.  He  was  strongly  imbued  with  the  notion  of 
emancipation.  Conversations  with  his  wife  tinctured 
her  mind  with  the  doctrine,  and  he  then  formed  a 
plan  for  the  ultimate  emancipation  of  their  slaves. 

"About  this  time  he  acquired,  by  the  successful 
defense  of  a  suit,  a  large  tract  of  land  in  the  State  of 
Illinois,  and  he  then  determined  to  carry  into  practice 
his  Utopian  idea  of  establishing  a  colony  of  free 
negroes  on  the  land,  and  for  himself  to  play  the 
Patriarch  to  his  flock. 

"  In  accordance  with  those  feelings,  he  visited 
Illinois,  had  the  land  surveyed ;  and,  after  making  his 
final  arrangements,  returned  and  removed  all  his 
negroes  and  family  thither.  He  built  a  dwelling,  and 
houses,  for  the  negroes,  and  furnished  the  houses  com 
fortably.  He  emancipated  all  his  slaves,  and  put  his 
theory  to  the  test  of  practice.  Upon  the  principle  of 
the  community  farms,  he  laid  out  his  fields,  and  gave 

3* 


58  THE    CEEOLE 

the  negroes  an  interest  in  the  crop.  The  first  year 
they  did  tolerably  well,  but  grumbled  a  good  deal  upon 
the  division.  During  the  spring  of  the  second  year, 
several  left  him,  and  by  the  time  the  crop  was  ready  to 
harvest,  he  had  scarcely  half  of  his  original  force.  The 
negroes  who  remained  were  given  to  intoxication,  in 
subordination  and  idleness,  and  he  then  began  to  see 
into  the  effects  of  his  system.  At  the  end  of  the 
second  year,  all  had  gone  save  a  few  of  the  superan 
nuated. 

"  That  year  was  remarkably  unhealthy,  and  his 
family  were  exceedingly  sickly.  Ultimately,  he  him 
self  was  taken  ill.  His  wife  sent  to  the  negro  houses 
to-  request  some  one  to  attend  on  them. 

"  Latterly,  the  negroes'  services  had  been  grudgingly 
and  reluctantly  given  ;  and  now  he  and  his  family  re 
ceived  nothing  but  impertinence  and  insult,  and  an  ab 
solute  refusal  to  assist  them.  What  a  commentary  on 
the  pretended  gratitude  of  the  negro !  Servants  who 
had  been  raised  by  her  father  refused  to  wait  upon  the 
child  in  helpless  illness.  Servants  who  had  been  freed 
from  bondage,  and  put  upon  terms  of  equality  with  the 
whites  ;  and  upon  whose  breast  she  had  probably  often, 
when  a  child,  been  lulled  to  sleep.  This  is  gratitude — 
negro  gratitude.  Pshaw  I  tell  me  not  of  it — it  will  do 
well  enough  for  sickly  sentimentalists  to  prate  about — 
philanthropists  who  have  nothing  to  lose — and  old 
maids  like  Harriet  Martineau  to  twattle  about,  but  to 
carry  such  plans  into  execution  is  insanity.  No,  sir, 
God  made  them  slaves !  slaves  they  have  ever  been  1 
human  enactments  may 'declare  them  freemen,  but  they 
ever  have,  and  ever  will  be  slaves  to  their  own  pecu 
liar  characteristics — vices  of  lust  and  brutality.  God 
lias  put  his  mark  upon  them,  and  He  said,  *  Cursed 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  59 

be  Canaan ;  a  servant  of  servants  shall  he  be  unto  his 
brethren.' " 

"  Well,  that  settles  it,"  cried  Dr.  Grant,  "and  I  now 
propose  we  return." 

This  being  agreed  to,  he  gave  Pierre  in  charge  of 
Morat,  with  orders  to  return  home  at  once. 

"Slavery  is  a  subject  I  seldom  converse  upon,"  said 
Colonel  Ormond.  "  In  the  first  place  it  is  too  much 
trouble,  and  in  the  next  place  I  can  not  conceive  any 
benefit  to  be  derived  from  it." 

"  I  have  listened  to  you  all,"  laughed  Dr.  Grant, 
"  and  heard  your  arguments,  but  there  is  one  thing  I 
have  noticed  which  has  escaped  the  observations  of  all 
writers  on  tbe  history  of  man." 

"  What  is  this  discovery  ?"  asked  Mr.  Herndon. 

"  You  have  never  seen  a  negro  who  would  confess 
himself  perfectly  well ;  or  one  who  had  not  at  some 
time  in  his  life  been  a  horse.  Ask  any  male  negro  if 
he  is  well  ?  He  will  reply,  '  No  sir,  I  ain't  'zactly 
well,'  or  'I  feels  mighty  bad.'  Praise  one  up,  tell  him 
he  is  a  splendid  hand  and  looks  strong.  He  will 
answer — { Well,  massa,  I  ain't  worth  much  now  but  I 
is  seed  de  time  when  I  was  a  'horss.'  " 

A  roar  of  laughter  followed  the  doctor's  description 
of  his  discovery,  and  amid  the  merriment  of  boon 
companions,  they  drove  up  to  the  mansion  of  Colonel 
Ormond. 

He  insisted  upon  the  friends  remaining.  Mr.  Hern 
don  did  so,  but  Dr.  Grant  excused  himself  in  conse 
quence  of  the  indisposition  of  his  wife. 

All  the  remainder  of  the  evening  was  spent  by  the 
gentlemen  in  the  gallery,  in  social  "converse;  and 
when  they  separated,  between  Mr.  Herndon  and  Hart 
ley  there  existed  a  mutual  feeling  of  esteem. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  Leaves  have  their  time  to  fall, 
And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  north  wind's  breath, 
And  stars  to  set—  hut  all, 
Thou  hast  all  seasons  for  thine  own,  oh  Death  !" 

HEMANB. 

"  Si  Dens  nobiscum,  quis  contra  nos  ?" 


AN  the  following  morning,  Mr.  Hartley  was  sitting 
^  in  the  gallery  reading  a  newspaper.  The  sound 
of  horses'  feet  were  heard  ;  he  looked  up  ;  it  was  a  fine 
looking  youth  of  some  fourteen  years  who  alighted. 
He  saluted  Mr.  Hartley  respectfully,  and  seated  himself. 

In  a  few  minutes  Colonel  Ormond  entered  ;  he  re 
ceived  the  youth  kindly,  and  presented  him  to  Mr. 
Hartley,  as  Louis  Lamotte. 

"You  knew  we  had  arrived,  Louis,"  he  said,  "  why 
have  you  not  been  over  ?" 

The  boy  replied  in  a  sweet  mellow  voice,  in  which 
a  slight  French  accent  was  perceptible,  "  that  he  had 
been  paying  a  visit  to  a  friend  down  on  the  coast,  and 
had  just  returned,  but  that  he  had  rode  over  that 
morning  to  inform  him  that  Mr.  Laufre's  negro  Bob 
had  died  last  night." 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  to  learn  that,"  said  Colonel  Or 
mond,  expressing  more  concern  in  his  countenance, 
than  would  have  been  supposed,  at  the  simple  an 
nouncement  of  the  death  of  a  slave.  He  remained 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  61 

silent  a  short  time,  and  cast  his  glance  on  the  youth 
who  sat  by,  pensive  and  half  melancholy.  Louis  was 
dressed  in  a  light  hunting-shirt  of  cloth,  with  dark 
fringe,  a  pair  of  black  pantaloons,  and  his  feet  were 
covered  with  a  neatly -polished  boot,  while  a  crimson 
velvet  cap  was  carelessly  thrown  on  a  chair  by  him. 
His  face  was  beautiful,  and  of  that  deep,  subdued,  ex 
pressive  beauty  which  lasts  and  makes  an  impression 
on  the  memory.  His  hair  was  long,  and  hung  in 
heavy  masses  down  his  neck.  His  eye  was  dark  and 
pensive.  In  fact,  his  countenance  was  one  which  we 
could  not  help  believing  was  inspired  by  genius. 

Colonel  Ormond  aroused  himself,  and  exclaimed, 
"  Louis,  the  children  are  in  the  garden,  I  hear  their 
voices,  join  them."  He  blushed  deeply  as  he  seized 
his  cap  and  hastily  left  the  gallery. 

"You  may  remember,  Mr.  Hartley,"  he  said,  "that 
yesterday  it  was  said  in  our  conversation,  that  there 
were  some  few  exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  in  regard 
to  the  attachment  of  negroes  to  their  masters." 
"  I  remember." 

"  Well,  here  now  is  an  example,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
few  instances  on  record,  in  which  the  African  race  has 
proved  faithful,  and  exhibited  feeling.  The  slave 
whom  you  have  heard  Louis  name,  was  really  faith 
ful  and  true,  and  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Laufre  is  truly 
distressed.  He  was  a  treasure — being  old  he  was 
exempted  from  any  labor,  and  his  every  want  grati 
fied;  he  felt  his  master's  interest  and  was  trust 
worthy  in  the  extreme.  The  family  were  all  strongly 
bound  to  the  negro  by  ties  of  real  esteem.  The  inci 
dent  I  refer  to  endeared  him  to  his  master  for  life. 
Mr.  Laufre  and  his  wife  were  traveling  years  ago  up 
the  Mississippi  river ;  Bob  was  with  them.  When  up 


62  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

the  stream  some  distance,  the  boat  caught  fire,  the 
pilot  seemed  to  be  seized  with  a  panic,  and  instead  of 
running  the  boat  on  shore,  he  kept  her  in  the  middle 
of  the  river.  Ultimately  wrapped  in  flames,  she  was 
run  on  the  foot  of  Ozark  Island.  The  boat  swung 
round,  and  no  one  could  reach  the  shore.  She  then 
suddenly  exploded,  tearing  away  all  the  forward  part 
of  the  cabin. 

The  yawl  was  soon  filled  with  terrified  people,  leav 
ing  in  the  ladies'  cabin,  Mr.  Laufre,  his  wife,  and  Bob. 
They  were  alone  on  that  portion  of  the  burning  wreck, 
the  flames  were  wrapping  every  thing  in  their  destruct 
ive  embrace,  and  there  seemed  nothing  but  certain 
death  to  them. 

All  the  boilers  of  the  boat  had  exploded,  a  thousand 
fragments  were  scattered  around,  and  many  torn  and 
mangled  human  beings  lay  about.  The  scene  was 
awful,  and  even  now  Mr.  Laufre,  when  he  relates  the 
circumstance,  shudders. 

There  stood  himself  and  his  wife,  and  by  them  stood 
Bob.  Bob  saw  there  was  no  other  resource  left,  seized 
his  mistress  around  the  waist,  and  plunged  into  the 
water.  He  gallantly  battled  among  the  floating  frag 
ments,  and  reached  the  shore  in  safety.  He  returned, 
and  brought  his  master  in  the  same  manner.  "  Was 
that  not  a  noble  deed  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  was !  it  was  !"  answered  Hartley,  "  and  did 
he  not  emancipate  the  negro?" 

"  He  offered  to  do  so  repeatedly,  but  Bob  preferred 
staying  with  a  good  and  indulgent  master ;  he  has  died 
among  kind  and  sincere  friends ;  and  true  drops  of 
sorrow  will  be  shed  over  his  grave." 

"Suppose,"  continued  he,  "you  ride  over  therewith 
me  this  evening." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  63 

"  I  shall  be  delighted ;  but  there  is  a  question 
•which  I  was  about  to  ask  you.  Who  is  this  youth 
who  just  now  left  us  ?" 

"  He  is  a  noble  fellow,"  answered  Colonel  Ormond, 
with  a  smile  of  partiality.  "  He  is  generous,  and  brave, 
truthful  and  honorable." 

In  reply  to  an  inquiry,  he  continued ;  "  He  is  an  or 
phan,  his  parents  were  French  immigrants,  who  died 
with  yellow  fever,  in  New  Orleans,  when  he  was  an 
infant.  A  distant  relative  took  him,  and  having  no 
children,  adopted  him.  His  parents  were  possessed  of 
some  property ;  this  was  placed  in  a  safe  institution, 
and  has  been  accumulating  ever  since.  His  guardian 
.resides  about  four  miles  from  here,  and  is  a  high-mind 
ed,  honorable  gentleman ;  not  like  the  generality  of 
old  Frenchmen,  that  hate  de  dam  "lmericansr  and  inno 
vations  of  all  kinds.  This  Louis  is  a  boy  of  decided 
talent,  but  he  is  almost  too  fond  of  hunting  to  be  a 
good  student." 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  face  with  which  I  was  more 
pleased,"  said  Mr.  Hartley. 

"  You  will  do  well  to  cultivate  his  friendship,  Mr. 
Hartley ;  you  will  find  him  a  valuable  acquisition  in 
'  your  rambles ;  he  understands  the  gentle  art  of  venerie 
and  woodcraft.  But  come,  let  us  take  a  ride,  and  when 
we  return  and  get  our  dinner,  it  will  be  time  to  go  over 
to  see  the  last  of  poor  Bob." 

Louis  Lamotte  meanwhile  sought  the  garden,  where, 
under  the  shade  of  a  large  live-oak,  throwing  its  pro 
tecting  arms  over  them,  he  found  Marie  and  the  two 
girls.  She  was  sewing  some  light  fabric,  while  they, 
having  thrown  down  the  book  which  they  had  brought 
to  read,  were  arranging  bouquets,  and  making  garlands 
of  flowers. 


64  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

He  came  upon  them  suddenly  ;  his  frank  approach 
and  the  exclamations  of  delight,  with  which  he  was 
greeted,  told  plainly  that  he  was  no  unwelcome  or  un 
usual  visitor,  as  indeed  he  was  not,  for  many  were  the 
pleasant  and  happy  days  he  spent  with  them. 

Both  the-  children  sprang  to  meet  him,  and  Marie 
received  him  with  a  quiet  and  pleased  smile.  He  was 
soon  deeply  engaged  in  the  same  occupation  with  the 
children,  and  they  were  at  the  same  time  delighted 
with  his  affectionate  efforts  to  please.  He  amused  them 
by  giving  a  history  of  his  late  visit,  and  adventures, 
but  cast  a  shade  of  sorrow  on  the  group  when  he  men 
tioned  the  death  of  "  old  Bob,"  whom  all  knew,  and 
loved.  Thus  in  pleasant  intercourse,  the  time  passed 
until  the  hour  for  dinner. 

Old  grumbling  Sally,  was  some  distance  off,  busy 
over  a  bed  of  "  ya,rbs"  and  directing  the  labors  of  a 
lot  of  little  negroes  in  weeding.  She  was,  as  usual, 
giving  full  vent  to  her  spleen. 

"Now  you  Phillis,  why  don't  you  mind  me;  I  neber 
did  see  sich  a  nigger  in  all  my  born  days,  I  tells*  you 
to  pull  up  de  pusley  from  out  dat  bed  ob  tansey,  and 
you  goes  right  straight  to  pullin'  up  parsnips,  hard  's 
ever  you  can.  De  fust  thing  you  knows  I  '11  bounce 
you,  nigger.  You  Tid,  whar  is  you  carrying  dat  ar 
wheelbarrow?  put  it  down;  de  Lord  he  knows  I  has 
more  trouble  wid  you  all  dan  you  is  worth,  I  don't 
know  what  little  niggers  is  made  fur ;  for  my  part  I 
never  could  see  any  use  in  'em,  but  to  fret  old  creeturs 
with ;  Lord  knows  I  has  a  monstrous  hard  time  of  it ; 
I  wish  I  was  back  in  old  South  Calliny  agin  ;  I  link 
de  Lord  will  hear  my  prayers,  and — Now,  Colin 
why  don't  you  get  to  work?  what  is  you  put  here 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  65 

for,  hey  ?  Loo,  I  raly  b'leve  you  is  bin  pullin'  dem 
currants." 

"  No,  I  clar  I  ain't,  Aunt  Sally"  cried,  the  terrified 
little  wretch,  "  I  jes  tetched  my  finger  on  dat  bush,  and 
dey  dropped  off." 

"  You  is  tellin'  a  lie,  I  know  you  is  ;  stick  out  your 
tongue.  Dar  now,  I  knowed  it ;  you  ain't  ?  Well  I'll 
soon  see,  I  '11  give  you  a  'metic  and  1  know  Lkin  find 
out  dat  way." 

"  Aunt  Sally,  Aunt  Sally !"  called  out  some  one 
from  the  Quarter. 

u  Dar  it  is,  agin,  Aunt  Sally !  Aunt  Sally  1  all  de 
time.  "What  kin  you  do,  widout  Aunt  Sally  ?  What 
you  want?"  she  exclaimed  in  a  loud,  sharp  voice. 

"  Little  Hanna  done  come  in  from  de  field  wid  de 
fever,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sick,  of  course,  all  de  time  sick  ;  what  bus 
iness  she  gittin'  sick,  couldent  she  put  it  off  till  Sun 
day?" 

"  Yes,  an  I  reckon  you  will  put  off  dying  till  Sun 
day  some  of  dese  times,"  exclaimed  one  of  the  little 
negroes,  as  soon  as  old  Sally  had  hobbled  off. 

"  Be  a  mighty  good  ting  if  she  'd  do  it  right  away," 
replied  another. 

"  I'd  have  all  dat  coffee  she  got  in  her  chist,''  chimed 
in  a  third. 

Old  Sally  was  very  strict  in  what  she  thought  was  her 
duty,  and  she  made  the  little  darkies  "  toe  the  mark  ;" 
hence  they  bore  her  no  good  will.  She  on  her  part, 
having  got  into  a  habit  of  grumbling,  came  out  on  all 
occasions.  She  stated  seriously,  "Dat  de  fact  was,  ho 
body  what  had  little  niggers  round  dem,  to  tend  to 
could  go  to  heaven — (a  remark  which  by  the  way  more 


66  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

than  one  accomplished  Southern  lady  had  made),  cause 
dey  made  folks  commit  a  heap  of  sin." 

But  Sally  was  a  systematic  grumbler,  nothing  es 
caped  her.  If  a  light  drouth  came  on ;  she  would  walk 
her  gallery,  seize  a  stick  and  bang  some  innocent  dog, 
who  was  trying  to  make  an  honest  living  by  picking 
up  the  scraps.  Then  she  would  go  to  the  edge  of  the 
porch,  cast  her  eye  up;  "Well  de  ting  is-pinted  now, 
no  rain,  de  garden  is  as  dry  as  a  ash  bank,  ebery  ting 
dying,  de  corn  in  de  field  is  curling  up,  no  corn  for 
next  year,  de  cane  is  done  gone,  't  ain't  as  big  as  my 
little  finger,  no  crop  dis  year."  She  would  sit  do  wn 
and  rock  herself  to  and  fro  for  some  time,  to  work  off 
her  extra  spleen.  Perhaps  a  little  cloud  would  arise, 
the  wind  change,  and  a  distant  roll  of  thunder  be 
heard ;  she  would  spring  off,  and  up  would  go  her 
weather  eye  again.  Then  would  she  smile,  "  Tank  de 
Lord  for  dat  much ;  I  prayed  hard  for  dat."  Such  a 
getting  up  of  chickens,  gathering  in  of  clothes,  and 
placing  of  water  barrels.  The  cloud  would  pass  oVer. 
"  Oh,  I  knowed  it,  I  knowed  it  wan't  agwine  to  rain, 
jest  cause  it's  me  wants  it ;"  and,  here  in  a  perfect  storm 
of  indignation,  she  would  bang  the  door  after  her,  and 
retire.  But  let  a  good  rain  come,  she  would  be  found 
in  the  garden,  as  busy  as  a  bee,  setting  out  young  cab 
bage  or  lettuce  plants.  "  Here  come  anoder  shower. 
Oh  yes,  now  it's  began  it  don't  know  when  to  stop,"  and 
again  would  she  seek  her  cabin,  to  give  vent  to  her 
feelings. 

Poor  Sally  !  you  are  only  a  representative  of  many 
grumblers  in  this  world,  who  have,  by  practice,  re 
duced  the  thing  to  a  habit. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Colonel  Ormond 
and  Mr.  Hartley  mounted,  and  rode  off  toward  Mr. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  67 

Laufre's  ;  but  after  they  set  out,  Marie  took  the  girls, 
and,  with  Louis,  again  went  to  her  favorite  haunt 
under  the  live-oak  in  the  garden.  They  had  not  long 
been  there,  before  Pierre,  learning  that  his  master  had 
gone,  came  sneaking  around  the  garden-fence,  to 
where  the  party  were.  He  had  in  his  hand  a  large 
bunch  of  water-lily,  which  he  declared  he  had  brought 
to  Misses  Zoe  and  Estelle  "  plum  from  de  lake."  His 
step  was  still  unsteady,  and  he  was  not  quite  over  the 
effects  of  his  late  frolic. 

"  Pierre,  you  have  been  drinking,"  exclaimed  Marie, 
as  he  presented  himself  before  her. 

uJSTo,  I  ain't,  Miss  Marie." 

"  Oh  I  Pierre !  Pierre  !  how  often  have  I  begged 
you  not  to  drink  so  much.  You  don't  know  how  bad 
it  looks  in  an  old  man  like  you." 

"  Me,  Miss  Marie  ?"  exclaimed  the  old  scamp,  in 
apparent  surprise  ;  "  Me  ?  Ton  my  word,  I  ain't  toch 
a  drop  to-day." 

"  Why,  you  stagger,  Pierre  !  you  are  drunk !" 

"  Oh !  no,  Miss  Marie ;  Pierre  gettin'  old :  it 's 
weakness.  I  was  j  ust  gwine  to  ax  you  for  a  little 
dram  to  keep  up  de  circulation." 

"  No,  Pierre  1  not  a  drop  !  You  have  been  drinking : 
you  can  not  deceive  me." 

Pierre,  well  knowing  that  when  once  she  refused 
him,  it  was  useless  to  press  the  matter,  walked  off 
slowly,  until  he  got  beyond  the  garden-gate,  when  he 
boldly  and  briskly  stepped  up  to  the  gallery,  which 
Robert  was  just  then  sweeping  out.  "Bobl  Bob!" 
said  Pierre,  "  wake  up,  horse-fly,  and  gib  dis  old  nig 
ger  a  dram." 

"No,  you  don't,  old  boy." 

"  Miss  Marie  sent  me." 


68  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  You  don't  catcTi  dis  here  nigger  dis  week,"  replied 
Bob,  grinning;  -"an'  you  don't  get  no  dram  from 
me." 

"Look  here,  nigger!  I'll  go  call  Miss  Marie,  and 
she  '11  make  you  mind.  She  sent  me,  sah  !  Do  you 
tink  I  'd  a  come  'dout  she  sent  me  ?  Don't  you  see 
how  wet  I  is  bin — me  what 's  just  saved  the  life  of  a 
fello  w-cretur . ' ' 

"  Now,  dat  's  good !  You,  Pierre  ?  you  save  his 
life  ?" 

"Yes,  sah  !  One  of  Mr.  Le  Baron's  boys  fell  into 
de  lake,  and  I  jump  in  jest  as  he  was  a-drownin',  and 
pull  him  out.  Dat 's  how,  sah !" 

Bob  looked  at  him  in  admiration,  and  then  said, 
"  Well,  I  declar !  but  is  you  sure  Miss  Marie  telled 
you  to  come  to  me  for  a  dram  ?" 

"  Yes,  sah  !  dident  I  tell  you  so  ?  Jest  call  her,  and 
ax  her,  sah,  and  see  if  I  ain't  tellin'  you  de  truth." 

Bob  was  satisfied,  and  brought  out  a  stiff  drink  of 
brandy,  which  Pierre  at  once  disposed  of. 

"  Well,  now,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
off,  "  dat's  what  I  call  policy.  I  walked  into  dat  nig- 
gar's  feelings  good !  Well,  I  is  a  great  nigger,  sure  I" 
and,  with  this  consolatory  reflection,  he  turned  into 
the  Quarter-yard  to  his  house,  to  sleep  off  the  fatigues 
of  the  day. 

In  the  mean  time,  Colonel  Ormond  and  his  guest 
were  wending  their  way  to  Mr.  Laufre's.  The  house 
was  situated  on  the  river-bank.  Upon  riding  up  to 
the  gate,  and  entering  the  yard,  Mr.  Laufre,  a  portly, 
handsome,  middle-aged  gentleman,  met  them.  He 
conducted  them  into  the  gallery,  where  seats  were 
already  placed.  The  gallery  is  an  all-important  por 
tion  of  the  house  in  the  South  ;  and  no  where  is  more 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  69 

time  spent  in  them,  or  are  they  more  valued  than  on 
the  Louisiana  coast. 

Mr.  Hartley  was  presented. 

"  Ah !  Colonel  Ormond,  welcome  to  you  and  your 
friend.  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

"Well,  Mr.  Laufre,"  observed  Colonel  Ormond,  "I 
am  sorry  that  you  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose 
poor  Bob." 

"  Ah  !  sir,  do  not  mention  it.  I  would  sooner  have 
lost  half-a-dozen  of  my  best  hands.  Not  for  his  in 
trinsic  worth,  but  because,  gentlemen,  he  was  a  faith 
ful  fellow.  He  was  raised  up  with  me,  had  been  my 
playmate  in  childhood,  and  my  companion  in  later 
years ;  and,  in  truth,  I  felt  for  him  almost  the  affec 
tion  of  a  brother.  He  felt  that  my  interest,  and  my 
honor,  was  as  dear  to  him  as  to  myself;  and  then,  you 
know  that  he  risked  his  life  to  save  mine." 

"  I  have  known  Bob  for  a  number  of  years,  and 
have  always  respected  him." 

"  Ah !  Colonel,  he  was  not  like  a  common  negro ; 
he  had  the  soul  of  a  white  man.  But  I  must  not  re 
pine.  I  was  with  him  until  he  died,  and,  if  there  ever 
was  a  Christian,  he  was  one.  I  am  much  distressed." 

The  same  air  of  sorrow  showed  itself  upon  the  faces 
of  the  whole  family ;  and,  beyond  courteous  expres 
sions  of  welcome  and  kindness,  not  a  word  was  spoken 
at  the  supper -table. 

Bob,  as  we  have  seen,  was  really  beloved  by  the 
family ;  and  nothing  which  could  contribute  to  his 
comfort  or  happiness  was  refused.  He  had  long  ceased 
labor,  not  on  account  of  age,  but  infirmity ;  but^still 
he  kept  an  eye  to  his  master's  interests.  The  little 
negroes  would  ever  pretend  to  be  industrious  when 
he  happened  to  cast  his  eye  on  them.  Many  a  fence- 


70  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

rail  was  saved  from  destruction  by  the  stern  counte 
nance  of  old  Bob,  who  always  came  just  at  the  mo 
ment  ;  and  often  it  was  that  a  few  minutes'  work  on 
the  levee  by  stuffing  moss  in  a  craw -fish  hole,  saved 
manx  days'  labor  in  the  end.  He  knew  all  the  hogs 
by  name,  and  could  tell  in  a  moment  if  a  pig  had  dis 
appeared  the  previous  night.  He  could  be  seen  any 
warm  day  in  summer,  fishing  for  shrimps,  mending 
his  nets,  or  rootmg  out  a  big  weed  along  the  fence. 
He  was  a  declared  enemy  to  all  kinds  of  vermin ;  and 
polecats,  minxes,  and  coons,  were  his  abhorrence. 
But  poor  Bob  grew  weaker,  his  step  was  tottering  and 
feeble,  and  the  time  came  for  him  to  lie  down  and  die. 
The  summons  came,  and  found  Bob  ready.  To  Mrs. 
Laufre's  question,  "  Are  you  afraid  to  die,  Bob  ?"  he 
replied,  "  Oh !  no,  missus !  Bob  ain't  afeered  to  die. 
I  is  tried  to  do  my  duty,  and  I  puts  my  trust  in  de 
goodness  of  de  Lord." 

Bob  died,  peacefully  and  calmly ;  his  master  stood 
by  him,  and  he  smiled  and  breathed  his  last  sigh,  say 
ing,  "  God  bless  you,  massa  1" 

A  hum  of  gathering  voices  announced  that  the  ne 
groes  were  assembling  in  Bob's  cabin,  to  hold  their 
simpler  funeral  rites.  Mr.  Laufre  requested  the  gentle 
men  to  accompany  him  into  the  Quarter.  They  paused 
on  the  levee  awhile,  to  allow  the  negroes  to  gather. 
The  buzz  of  voices  informed  them  that  they  were 
gathering ;  and  the  three  gentlemen  now  turned  their 
course  thitherward. 

As  they  neared  the  cabin,  they  could  hear  the 
sobs  of  grief,  and  low  murmurs  '  of  mourners,  which 
were  more  expressive  than  the  sorrow  of  hired  sympa 
thy  at  aristocratic  funerals. 

They  entered.     There  were  assembled  some  hun- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  71 

dred  negroes,  of  all  ages  and  sexes,  from  the  hoary 
patriarch  to  the  giddy  child. 

In  the  center  of  the  house,  on  a  bench,  stood  the 
coffin,  incasing  the  remains  of  old  Bob.  There  were 
candles  burning  on  and  near  the  coffin,  and  simple 
refreshments  on  a  table  in  a  corner.  They  were  chant 
ing  a  low,  mournful  hymn ;  and,  as  soon  as  their  mas 
ter  entered  with  his  friends,  they  all  arose,  but  con 
tinued  the  song.  One  of  the  older-  negroes  handed 
some  chairs,  which  were  placed  near  the  door. 

As  soon  as  the  hymn  was  over,  the  officiating  negro 
preacher,  of  whom  there  is  generally  one,  or  at  least 
an  elderly  "  class-leader,"  on  every  large  plantation, 
arose.  He  was  a  venerable  old  man,  with  hair  white 
as  snow,  and  with  a  fine,  pleasing  expression  of  coun 
tenance.  A  full  suit  of  black  distinguished  him,  as 
also  a  very  white  neckerchief,  and  a  stiff  collar.  He 
commenced  with  a  fervent  and  impassioned  prayer, 
in  which,  although  not  much  acquaintance  with  gram 
mar  was  displayed,  a  deep  and  sincere 'earnestness  was 
perceptible.  He  thanked  the  Almighty  that,  although 
one  brother  was  gathered,  like  a  ripe  sheaf,  still  they 
were  spared.  He  thanked  Him  for  all  His  mercies, 
and  asked  a  blessing  on  their  labors.  For  his  dear 
master,  mistress,  and  children,  he  asked  the  choicest 
blessings  of  Heaven. 

After  the  prayer,  another  hymn  was  sung,  the  re 
frain  of  which  was : 


11  Happy  soul,  thy  days  are  ended,  • 
All  thy  mourning  days  below ; 
Go,  by  angel-guards  attended, 
To  the  sight  of  Jesus  go." 


Again  he  arose,  and  in  a  solemn  manner  spoke  of 
the    occasion    which    drew    them    together.      "  My 


72  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

friends,"  lie  said,  "  we  have  'sembled  here  to-night  to 
pay  de  last  tribute  to  our  departed  brother.  A  few 
days  ago,  he  was  alive  and  strong,  and  with  us,  and 
now  he  is  treadin'  them  unknown  shores  beyond  de 
grave.  Ah !  my  friends,  he  was  prepared  to  go,  he 
told  his  missus  he  wasent  afeard  to  die,  an'  go  home 
to  Jesus.  Oh  !  be  you  ready  likewise,  for  you  know 
not  '  when  de  bridegroom  cometh.'  Attend  to  de  in 
terests  of  your  immortal  souls ;  cast  your  eyes  to  de 
things  of  another  world,  where  sorrow  and  sadness 
don't  come.  How  vain  and  fleeting,  my  friends,  is 
all  de  things  of  dis  life  compared  with  'ternity.  Oh ! 
then,  lay  up  your  treasures  above,  and  put  your 
'pendence  in  Jesus'  love." 

In  this  style  he  went  on  for  half  an  hour.  At  length 
he  drew  to "  a  close.  He  ended  by  a  handsome 
eulogy  upon  poor  Bob,  and  begged  his  hearers  to. 
imitate  his  example  and  follow  him  to  the  happy 
land.  * 

During  all  this  time,  the  assembly  were  dissolved  in 
tears,  and  at  times,  when  he  grew  eloquent  and  ex 
cited,  the  agitation  was  great  among  them,  and  the 
broken  exclamations  of  "  Amen  1"  "  Bless  de  Lord  I" 
"Gone  to  heaven,  sure  I"  "  De  good  old  creturl" 
"  Lord,  save  us !"  were  often  heard. 

Another  prayer,  which  called  forth  more  cries  and 
tears,  more  groans,  and  even  misplaced  and  sometimes 
ludicrous  sentences,  was  made. 

Hartley  caught  himself,  more  than  once,  smiling, 
and  then^.the  next  minute,  he  experienced  a  strange 
feeling  of  choking  and  a  watery  suffusion  of  the  eyes. 

At  last  it  was  over,  and  several  of  the  men  went 
out,  and  got  torches  of  pine,  or  light  wood,  as  it  is 
termed,  which  had  been  obtained  from  some  steam- 


THE    CHEQUE    ORPHANS.    .  73 

boat  by  the  negroes,  for  the  purpose  of  kindling  iires. 
The  top  of  the  coffin  was  now  raised  for  the  last  time, 
that  all  might  get  a  parting  look  at  poor  Bob.  Mr. 
Laufre  arose  and  went  to  it.  He  gazed  at  the  corpse 
a  few  moments  amid  the  most  profound  silence.  Two 
great  tears  slowly  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Poor  old  fellow  !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  friend  of  my 
boyhood  !  you  are  in  peace !  your  journey  is  over. 
My  people,"  he  continued,  looking  around  earnestly, 
"  behold  the  end  of  a  faithful  servant.  All  of  you 
have  known  Bob  for  years ;  you  have  never  known 
him  guilty  of  a  mean  action.  He  was  ever  mild  and 
humane.  His  whole  life  has  been  one  of  unceasing  de 
votion  to  his  master,  and  his  end  was  as  peaceful  as  the 
setting  sun.  He  gained  the  love  of  ajl,  and  his  mas 
ter  is  as  grieved  at  his  loss  as  at  that  of  a  white 
friend.  Take  example  from  him.  Bob  died  a  Chris 
tian  ;  he  breathed  his  last  in  his  master's  arms."  He 
finished,  and,  pressing  the  cold,*  hard  hand,  turned 
away  to  hide  his  emotion.  The  tears  and  expressions 
of  grief  were  redoubled,  and  many  a  blessing  for  their 
kind  master  was  mingled  with  those  drops. 

From  one  end  of  the  room  arose  a  little  old  negro. 
He  was  a  kind  of  opposition  preacher,  who  seemed 
determined,  even  at  the  last  moment,  to  have  a  say-so 
in  the  matter.  All  the  evening,  his  brightness  had 
been  dimmed  by  the  other  preacher,  and  all  he  could 
do  was  to  groan  and  blubber  like  the  "  common  nig 
gers,"  and  in  concert  with  them ;  but  now,  seeing  a 
chance  to  slip  in  a  word,  he  arose.  He  Hfes  a  negro, 
who  had  been  recently  brought  from  the  piney  woods, 
and  he  determined  that  no  coast  nigger  should  outdo 
him.  He  beganj 

"  My  beloved  friends,  you  is  all  heerd  what  master 


74  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

is  said,  and  lie  speaks  de  truth,  de  Lord  knows.  "We 
all  must  'member  Ms  words,  and  try  and  do  every  thing 
what  he  wants  us.  Poor  old  Bob  is  gone  where  he 
can't  get  back ;  but  if  his  sperit  is  'lowed  to  look 
down  on  this  meeting,  he  is  mightily  pleased.  Let  us 
sing  a  hymn  while  de  brethren  makes  de  final  'range- 
ments."  He  then  struck  up  a  doleful,  melancholy  tune 
to  the  following  words  : 

"  Old  Satan  is  like  a  howling  dog, 

He  throwed  blocks  in  my  way ; 
Jesus  was  my  bosom  friend, 
And  he  cast  dem  all  away. 

Oh  Lord,  remember  me, 
Remember  Calvary  I 
And  while  you  is  a  'meinbrin'  round, 
'•   .        Oh  Lord,  remember  me. 

"As  I  was  a  lyin'  on  my  bed, 

A  making  my  cries  to  de  Lord ; 
He  come  and  eased  my  akin'  head, 
Wid  de  sweetness  of  his  word. 
Oh  Lord,  remember  me, 
Remember,  etc. 

"  You  need  not  crave  for  richness, 
You  need  n't  to  dress  so  fine, 
The  crown  that  my  Lord  gib  to  me, 
The  sun  can't  neber  outshine. 
Oh  Lord,  remember  me, 
Remember,"  etc. 

Both  Colonel  Ormond  and  Hartley  were  half-inclined 
to  laugh,  as  irreverent  as  it  was,  at  .this  serio-comic 
song ;  but  the  negroes  felt  the  inspiration,  and  entered 
into  it  wrtiPspirit,  it  being  one  of  their  own  songs,  the 
time,  measure  and  words  suiting  them  exactly ;  and, 
indeed,  it  would  be  hard  to  induce  them  to  believe  the 
song  was  not  truly  orthodox,  and  one  of  the  Church 
collection. 


THE    CEEOLE    OKPHANS.  75 

Mr.  Laufre  made  a  sign  to  Colonel  Ormond,  and 
they  left  the  cabin,  proceeding  to  the  house. 

The  negroes  had  now  lit  their  torches,  and  the  coffin, 
being  fastened,  final  arrangements  were  made,  refresh 
ments  were  handed  around,  and  a  ~busli-light,  as  it  is 
called,  was  kindled  before  the  cabin.  This  is  a  super 
stition  of  the  negroes,  and,  probably,  derived  from  the 
remnant  of  some  old  custom  in  Africa.  It  is  four 
small  forks  set  in  the  ground,  with  cross  pieces  put  on 
them,  covered  with  earth  ;  the  fat  pine  is  then  kindled, 
and  constantly  replenished.  The  superstition  is,  that 
the  soul  of  the  departed  continues  hovering  over 
the  remains  until  it  is  finally  laid  in  the  earth,  and  it 
then  takes  its  flight.  The  light  is  for  the  purpose  of 
allowing  the  spirit  to  have  a  good  view  of  the  opera 
tions.  It  is  called  the  "  death  fire" 

The  gentlemen  joined  the  ladies  of  the  family  in 
the  gallery,  whan  a  conversation  soon  commenced ;  but 
through  the  pauses  could  be  heard  the  exhortations  of 
some  of  the  older  negroes,  and  the  bursts  of  grief  of 
others,  mingled  with  snatches  of  hymns,  in  which  the 
solemn  and  ludicrous  were  strangely  blended.  One, 
which  seemed  to  be  a  favorite,  by  the  manner  they  all 
joined  in  it,  struck  Hartley  as  peculiarly  droll.  It 
ran  thus — 

"Jesus,  he  died  for  me — e, 
Jesus,  he  died  for  you— ou, 
And  he  neber  will  die  no  more, 
Oh !  Shepherd,  war  ar'  you — ou. 

You  promised  de  Lord  to  take  care  of  de  Lamb, 

And  you  let  one  go  astray. 

"Yonder  comes  de  carriage, 
Wid'de  inside  filled  wid  love, 
De  fore-wheels  runs  by  faith, 
And  de  hind-wheels  rolls  by  grace." 
You  promised,"  etc. 


76  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

More  was  sung,  which  lie  could  not  hear,  as  the 
torch-bearers  gathered  around  the  door ;  and  a  mur 
mur  arose  from  the  cabin — a  dead  silence  followed — 
there  were  groans  and  lamentations,  and  at  length  the 
coffin  appeared  borne  by  six  negro  men.  The  sight 
was  novel  and  interesting — the  dark  and  swarthy 
assembly — the  black  coffin,  with  its  bearers — the  flash 
ing  lights,  casting  a  ruddy  reflection  over  the  whole 
scene ;  and  the  various  expressions  of  sorrow  which, 
partly  forced — for  the  negro  is  passionately  attached 
to  ceremony  and  pageantry — and  partly  pure,  formed 
an  exhibition  that,  to  one  of  the  gentlemen  at  least, 
was  singularly  interesting. 

"  This,  I  presume,  is  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  you 
have  ever  seen,  Mr.  Hartley,"  remarked  Mr.  Laufre. 

"  It  is ;  and  I  must  admit  it  is  novel  to  me." 

11  There  is  much  of  the  ludicrous  in  their  ceremony, 
to  a  refined  taste,  and  to  one  who  is  unused  to  them." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  imagine  an  affecting  earnestness  which 
pleases  me ;  and  they  seem  more  taken  with  religion 
than  I  ever  thought." 

"  Why,  sir,  as  to  that,  I  believe  I  have  among  my 
negroes  some  who  are  religious,  as  far  as  negro  nature 
will  allow  them  to  be,  but  they  are  very  few." 

"  Do  you  allow  your  negroes  religious  instruction?" 

"  The  condition  of  the  negro  is  much  meliorated  in 
that  respect;  formerly  they  never  knew  what  it  was; 
but  now,  public  sentiment  among  our  planters  has 
changed ;  and  there  is  scarcely  a  plantation  which 
does  not  HRher  have,  on  every  other  Sabbath,  preach 
ing  to  the  negroes,  on  the  place,  or  at  a  meeting-house 
in  the  neighborhood." 

"  Do  you  think  they  are  benefited  ?" 

"  Most  of  them,  sir,  assume  religion  for  a  cloak ; 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  77 

but,  on  the  whole,  we  think  it  in  many  instances 
benefits  them." 

"  I  have  been  informed  that  the  negro  was  pur 
posely  kept  in  the  darkest  ignorance ;  and  that  they 
never  had  any  privileges  of  this  nature." 

"They  have  religious  instruction,  sir ;  but  they 
receive  it  very  badly.  It  is  not  in  their  nature  to  be 
really  pious,  and  the  best  observation  will  bear  me 
out.  You  may  have  them  gathered  together  and 
preached  to — and  prayed  with — you  may  get  them  to 
shouting  and  yelling — turn  them  loose,  and  in  an  hour 
they  will  be  found  in  a  neighbor's  hen-roost,  or  among 
his  young  pigs.  They  are  an  incorrigible  set;  but 
there  are  among  them  some  good  ones,  just  as  there 
are  some  bad  masters.  As  a  rule,  however,  you  will 
find  that  the  planters  of  the  South  are  constantly  in 
venting  new  plans  for  the  melioration  of  the  condition 
of  the  slave." 

Just  then,  the  bustle  of  the  negroes  at  the  Quarter 
ceased,  and  they  at  once  proceeded  to  the  grave, 
with  slow  and  measured  step. 

After  an  hour  spent  in  pleasant  discourse.  Colonel 
Ormond  proposed  riding,  and,  refusing  a  kind  invi 
tation  to  stay  all 'night,  he  and  his  guest  mounted  and 
rode  off. 

Few  words  passed  between  them,  for  both  were 
busy  with  their  own  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  A  man  can  smile  and  smile,  and  be  a  villain." 

Servant.    "  There  be  a  gentleman  at  the  door  come  to  see  your  honor." 
Joconde.    "  Yes ;  well,  what  is  he  like  ?  yet  stay,  show  him  in." 

UNPTJB.  DRAMA. 

WHEN"  Colonel  Ormond  and  Mr.  Hartley  reached 
home,  they  were  informed  that  a  stranger  had 
arrived  in  the  evening,  but,  as  it  was  late,  had  then 
retired. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Hartley  was  up  early  and 
taking  a  walk.  He  bent  his  steps  toward  the  Quarter. 
In  her  gallery  old  Sally  stood  washing  some  common 
crockery  before  getting  breakfast  for  the  children  and 
sick.  She  was  humming  a  doleful  kind  of  tune  when 
Mr.  Hartley  came  up. 

"Well,  aunty,"  he  said,  "how  do  you  find  yourself 
this  morning?" 

"Sarvant,  sir,"  she  replied,  courtesying  very  low ; 
"  bless  de  Lord  I  finds  myself  toleble  well,  'cept  a  pain 
in  de  back,  an  a  little  pain  in  de  head,  an  a  mighty 
misery  in  my  side." 

"Well;  it  appears  to  me,"  said  he,  laughing,  "that 
you  must  be  be  toldbly  bad  off  with  all  those  pains." 

"  Yes,  sir,  tank  God  I  is  right  bad  off,  but  it  can't 
be  'spected  to  be  any  better,  for  I  is  a  old  cretur  and 
has  a  heap  to  do." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  a  great  deal  depending  on 
you." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  79 

"  Dat  's  de  solemn  truth  sir ;  I  has  more  to  do  an  any 
nigger  on  dis  place.  Master 's  promised  time  and  agin 
to  put  somebody  to  help  me,  but  nobody  ever  thinks 
of  de  poor  ole  nigger  'cept  when  dey  wants  'em  to  do 
somethin." 

"  What  do  you  have  to  do  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  I  has  to  tend  in  de  hospital,  and  to  de 
little  niggers,  and  a  heap  ob  oder  things." 

"You  appear  to  have  plenty  of  time  though." 

"Oh,  yes,  sir !  I  has  time  to  set  down  and  rest,  and 
I  has  old  Aunt  Dinah  and  Cinta  to  help  me  'casionally 
when  I  wants  'em,  for  dey  don't  do  nothin'  'cept  lay  up 
an  grumble." 

"  You  never  grumble,  Aunt  Sally?" 

"No,  sir,  I  doesent;  't ain't  right." 

Hartley  laughed  outright.  ,  "  Were  you  born  in  this 
country  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  thank  God  I  ain't  no  gray  owl*  nigger,  I 
come  from  old  South  Calliny,  I  did." 

"I  suppose  you  don't  like  this  country  as  much  as 
you  did  ole  South  Calliny?" 

"Lord,  no,  sir!  It'satoleble  good  country  for 
some  things  and  mighty  bad  for  tothers.  Ole  South 
Calliny  is  a  long  ways  head  of  dis  country,  dere  ain't 
no  meetsketurs  dar,  and  dere  ain't  no  lightood  here, 
dat  's  de  only  'jection  to  it." 

"  What  is  lightood,  Aunt  Sally  ?" 

"Why,  sir,  don't  know  what  lightood  is?  it's  pine, 
fat  pine,  dat 's  what  't  is." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  Well,  are  you  a  member  of  the 
church?" 

"  Is  you  a  preacher,  sir  ?"  answered  she  looking  at 
him  in  a  quizzical  manner. 

*  Creole. 


80  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  No,"  he  answered  laughing,  "  I  am  not,  I  wish  I 
was." 

"Well,  no,  I  ain't  in  de  church,  and  I  don't  want  to 
be,  for  dere  is  more  debilment  carried  on  by  dem  what 
is  in  de  church  dan  you  knows  on." 

"  Aunt  Sally  you  ought  to  join  the  church,  it  makes 
people  better." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  she.  "  Why  massa,  you 
makes  me  laugh;  de  very  niggers  what  makes  de 
mo'st  fuss  'bout  'ligion  is  de  very  ones  what  ain't 
got  no  more  'ligion  dan  a  terripin ;  dey  rolls  dey  eyes 
up,  but  all  de  time  dey  is  thinking  of  some  debilment, 
and  what  dey  kin  steal ;  no  sir,  dey  puts  on  'ligion 
like  a  nigger  puts  on  a  blanket — to  hide  de  dirt." 

" Pierre  belongs  to  the  church,  I  believe?" 

"Pierre,  Pierre?  ha,  ha!  he  Zambo  nigger;  Zambo 
ain't  got  no  soul ;  and  all  de  preaching  Mr.  Hickory- 
bottom  do,  ain't  goin'  to  make  him  no  better." 

"Who  is  Mr.  Hickory  bottom?" 

"He  is  our  preacher,  a  mighty  good  man,  larns  de 
little  niggers  dey  catakiz,  and  preach  twice  a  month, 
but  it  don't  do  'em  any  good." 

"  Well,  Aunt  Sally,  here  is  half  a  dollar  to  buy  you 
a  new  handkerchief  to  go  to  meeting  in." 

The  old  woman  eagerly  clutched  the  money,  and 
amid  a  profusion  of  thanks  he  turned  away. 

When  Colonel  Ormond  arose  in  the  morning  he 
found  a  card  on  his  dressing-table  bearing  the  name 
of  "Daniel  Talbot,  Boston."  He  rung  the  bell  and 
Eobert  appeared. 

"  How  came  this  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  strange  gentleman,  sir,  that  came  here  last 
night,  gave  it  to  me,  sir." 

•"When?" 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  81 

"Last  night,  sir." 
"Hem!  where  is  he  ?" 
"  In  the  parlor,  sir,  waiting  for  you." 
"  Very  well,  go  and  see  that  there  is  a  fire  in  the 
room,  and  some  late  newspapers." 


"  Talbot  !  Talbot,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  gazed  in  an 
absent  manner  at  the  card  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 
"  "Where  have  I  heard  that  name  ?  It  sounds  familiar  I 
By  my  soul,  it  can  not  be  that  he  is  one  of  the  Talbots 
of  Connecticut,  one  of  our  connections.  Let  me  see, 
Talbot  married  a  relation  of  ours  ;  he  was  from  New 
England." 

He  arranged  his  toilet  and  descended  the  steps  to  the 
parlor. 

A  young  man  of  middle  height,  apparently  of  about 
twenty  -six  years,  dressed  in  black,  was  leaning  over  a 
table  attentively  examining  some  prints.  He  arose 
when  Colonel  Ormond  entered,  and  advanced  — 

a  You  have  my  card,  Colonel  Ormond,  I  presume." 

tl  Mr.  Talbot,  I  am  happy  to  know  you,  sir,  and  if 
I  am  not  mistaken,  you  are  a  family  connection." 

"Even  a  relation,  colonel,"  he  replied  smiling,  "for  I 
am  the  son  of  a  relation  on  the  maternal  side,  and  may 
be  called  a  cousin." 

"  As  you  are  the  first  one  whom  I  have  ever  known, 
I  shall  be  pleased  to  own  the  relationship.  But  have 
we  any  other  relations  in  Boston  ? 

"  None,  nor  in  Connecticut  ;  I  believe  I  am  the  only 
one." 

"  How  did  you  become  aware  of  my  residence  ?" 

"  "Well,  you  must  know  that  there  is  -an  old  lady  in 
New  York  State,  who  is  a  connection  of  my  mother's  ; 
I  called  on  her,  as  I  was  on  business,  and  she  gave  me 


82  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

a  history  of  our  whole  family.  I  took  down  your  ad 
dress,  and  when  I  left  Boston,  a  friend  gave  me  a  let 
ter  to  a  young  man,  who  is  a  clerk  in  New  Orleans. 
I  presented  my  letter,  and  expressed  my  wishes  ;  he 
consulted  a  kind  of  directory,  and  we  found  your  resi 
dence  in  the  city ;  your  agent  told  us  where  the  plant 
ation  was." 

"  You  have  exhibited  a  good  deal  of  tact,  for  a 
stranger,"  said  Colonel  Ormond. 

"  You  forget  that  I  am  a  Yankee,"  replied  he  laugh 
ing. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  have  done  so,  the  more  as 
you  are  the  first  of  my  relations  who  has  ever  been  to 
the  South.  When  did  you  arrive  in  New  Orleans?" 

"  A  week  ago,  sir ;  I  would  have  sought  you  out 
sooner,  but  I  occupied  myself  in  seeking  for  a  situa 
tion." 

"  You  have  then,  no  settled  business,  Mr.  Talbot  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  was  engaged  in  the  dry  goods  business  in 
Boston,  but  was  unfortunate." 

1 '  The  fate  of  many  ;  but  I  think  you  will  find  no 
difficulty  in  obtaining  business  in  the  city." 

Here  a  servant  entered  and  called  Colonel  Ormond 
out  to  attend  to  something,  and  Mr.  Talbot  was  left 
alone.  He  sat  awhile,  and  then  timidly  glanced 
around. 

"  A  pretty  fine  old  cock,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  and  seems  to  be  a  good  liver ;  I  wonder  if  he  has  got 
any  family ;  I  must  look  sharp,  and  act  mighty  polish 
ed." 

Colonel  Ormond  entered  the  room  just  afterward, 
and,  as  he  drew  up  his  chair,  remarked — w  Mr.  Talbot, 
as  you  have  not  engaged  in  any  business  yet,  I  may  be 
of  service  to  you ;  at  any  rate,  you  will  remain  with  us 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  83 

until  you  do  engage  in  something,  for  we  of  the  South 
pride  ourselves  on  our  hospitality." 

"  Colonel,  you  are  too  kind/'  remarked  he,  in  an  af 
fected  tone. 

"I  beg  you  will  not  think  so,  sir." 

"Where  did  you  leave  your  baggage?  "he  added, 
rising. 

"  I  left  it  at  the  little  town  below  here,  where  I 
landed." 

"  I  will  send  a  servant  after  it." 

As  Ormond  passed  through  the  library  he  found 
Marie  in  tears.  He  started  back  in  astonishment, 
"Why,  Marie,  what  is  the  cause  of  these  tears? 
Speak!"  he  approached  and  spoke  kindly  to  her. 

"  Oh,  Charles,"  she  answered,  raising  her  head,  and 
looking  earnestly  on  him  through  her  tears — "For 
give  me,  I  am  foolish,  I  feel  unhappy  this  morning, 
but  the  arrival  of  this  stranger  from  the  North,  and, 
old  Celeste's  prophecy."  The  same  idea  at  that  moment 
struck  Colonel  Ormond,  and  he  started  as  if  stung  by 
some  reptile ;  but,  instantly  recovering  himself,  he  con 
tinued  :  "  Nay,  Marie,  this  is  very  childish,  this  arri 
val  of  a  mere  youth,  has  no  connection  with  that 
stuff.  Come,  Marie,  remember  that  he  is  a  relative, 
and  I  must  insist  that  you  treat  him  with  respect." 

"  Charles,  you  well  know  that  your  will  is  my  law ; 
I  have  no  doubt  but  I  am  wrong,  but  I  can  not  help 
feeling  sometimes  that  there  is  a  sad  future  for  us." 

"  Do  not  give  way  to  those  fancies,  Marie ;  they  are 
dangerous,  remember ;  there  is  a  good  and  kind  Being 
above,  who  watches  over  us  all ;  trust  in  Him." 

"  You  are  right,  Charles,  you  have  taught  me  a  les- 


84  THE     CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"There,  my  Marie,"  he  answered,  drawing  her  to 
ward  him,  and  her  beautiful  head  falling  on  his  bosom  ; 
"come,  don  yourself  in  your  most  splendid  robe, 
deck  yourself  in  jewels,  and  come  forth,  in  a  blaze  of 
beauty,  to  astonish,  and  dazzle  his  cold  Northern  im 
agination."  She  looked  up  fondly,  and  smiled  at  this 
sally,  while  he  pressed  her  ripe  red  lips,  gazed  on  her 
in  admiration,  and  drank  in  her  beauty.  He  then  call 
ed  Pierre,  and  ordered  him  to  go  for  the  baggage  of 
Mr.  Talbot. 

"When  Talbot  found  himself  alone,  he  arose,  and  a 
pleased  expression  passed  over  his  features ;  he  glanced 
at  a  pier  glass,  which  reflected  his  whole  figure,  and 
then  stretched  himself. 

"  Well,"  he  said  "  this  is  a  streak  of  luck  sure,  to  find 
a  good  kind  relative,  and  a  nice  comfortable  home,  all 
at  once.  This  is  better  than  standing  behind  a  counter 
selling  pins  and  tape,  at  fifteen  dollars  a  month  ;  he 
looks  like  a  jolly  old  fellow,  and  seems  to  have  plenty 
of  negroes ;  I  wonder  how  much  he  is  worth. 

"  And  there,"  he  continued,  walking  to  the  window, 
"there's  the  sugar-house,  and  the  sugar-cane  being 
made  into  sugar.  I  heard  of  a  poor  fellow  once,  who 
threw  down  his  ox- whip,  as  the  first  steamboat  passed 
down  the  river.  c  By  gosh,  I'll  have  one  of  them  things 
if  it  costs  me  fifty  dollars.'  Now,  like  that  fellow,  I  '11 
have  one  of  them  things,  if  it  costs  me  my  life.  How 
grand  it  must  make  a  man  feel,  to  look  around,  and 
know  that  all  he  sees  is  his.  Well,  I  will  play  the 
moral  good  boy,  and  see  what  can  be  made  out  of  it." 

With'  this  worthy  determination,  he  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  and  ruminated  on  the  prospects  which 
seemed  to  be  opening  on  him.  Some  twenty  minutes 
passed  in  this  manner,  when  Colonel  Ormond  again 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  85 

entered  the  room.  He  drew  up  a  chair  to  the  fire,  and 
the  two  were  soon  engaged  in  a  desultory  conversation, 
which  lasted  until  breakfast.  During  the  first  moments 
of  their  acquaintance,  Ormond  did  not  have  leisure  to 
mark  individual  peculiarities,  as  they  presented  them 
selves,  or  to  give  his  guest  so  attentive  a  scrutiny  as 
now. 

In  person,  as  we  have  said,  Talbot  was  of  medium 
height,  his  face  was  long,  and  rather  wide  at  the  angle 
of  the  jaws.  His  eyes  were  deeply  set  in  their  orbits, 
and  of  a  light  gray.  The  lips  were  thin,  and  drawn 
tightly  around  the  teeth,  which  were  white,  even  and 
brilliant,  and  were  exhibited  in  laughing  and  speak 
ing.  The  chin  was  sharp  and  peaked  and  thin,  the 
neck  long  and  slim.  His  hair  was  a  light  brown  and 
worn  short.  There  was  a  restlessness,  an  uneasy 
wandering  of  the  eyes,  an  aversion  to  meet  a  fair  and 
honest  gaze,  and  while  Colonel  Ormond  was  easy  and 
self-possessed,  he  appeared  as  if  ill  at  ease.  He  had  a 
look  of  intelligence  and  conversed  well,  but  it  was  a 
kind  of  low,  hang-dog,  sneaking  intelligence,  a  kind  of 
prudent,  careful  weighing  out  of  words,  as  if  cautious 
of  committing  himself;  as  if  all  his  actions  were  gov 
erned  by  a  hidden  movement,  a  powerful  but  concealed 
spring. 

To  one  who  was  suspicious,  those  restless  eyes  and 
twitching  hands,  the  puckered  lips  and  cautious  speech, 
would  have  afforded  matter  for  speculation  ;  but  Colo 
nel  Ormond  was  all  honor,  and  never  dreamed  of  the 
true  character  of  the  viper  he  was  about  to  nestle  in 
his  bosom.  He  little  dreamed  that  the  demon,  which 
ruled  the  soul  of  his  guest,  was  avarice.  Born  and 
raised  in  a  circle  which  was  far  below  independence, 
he  had  looked  up  to  the  wealthy  as  great  and  happy 


86  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

beings  in  a  different  sphere.  He  acted  accordingly. 
To  his  superiors,  he  was  a  sneaking  and  submissive 
slave,  a  fawning  hypocrite ;  to  his  inferiors,  he  was 
haughty  and  imperious,  heartless  and  cruel. 

He  had  intelligence  enough,  though,  to  conceal  the 
failings  which  he  was  conscious  of  possessing.  He 
even  sometimes  tried  to  subdue  them.  He  had  some 
accomplishments,  and  quite  a  good  education ;  he  drew 
very  well  and  played  the  flute.  He  also  had  a  good 
mechanical  turn,  and  had  made  many  friends  among 
the  children,  by  the  dexterity  with  which  he  used  his 
knife  in  carving  curious  things  in  wood.  But  he 
lacked  a  high  and  manly  principle,  did  not  observe 
the  truth,  and,  in  regard  to  honor,  he  could  not  com 
prehend  the  term,  he  could  use  the  word  in  its  right 
place,  speak  volubly  about  it  and  assume  an  ingenuous 
air ;  but  the  conception  of  the  principle  was  beyond 
his  power. 

As  Colonel  Ormond  surveyed  the  countenance'  of 
his  guest,  he  experienced  a  strange,  unaccountable  feel 
ing  of  shrinking  and  repugnance,  as  if  he  had  touched 
a  venomous  reptile,  and  he  almost  repented  the  hasty 
invitation  he  had  given  ;  but  when  he  reflected  a  mo 
ment,  he  felt  half  ashamed  of  these  emotions,  and 
reasoned  with  himself  that  he  saw  through  a  dis 
torted  medium,  that  he  was  prejudiced,  and  he  even 
hastened  to  make  up  by  kindness  his  want  of  generos 
ity.  But,  although  he  endeavored  to  conquer  his  prej 
udices,  still  he  could  not  hide  from  himself  the  fact 
that  he  did  not  like  his  kinsman. 

Talbot,  on  the  other  hand,  cast  furtive  glances  at 
his  companion,  for  he  could  not  bear  the  calm,  steady, 
placid  look  of  Colonel  Ormond.  He  did  not  dislike 
him,  but  he  felt  humbled  by  the  contrast;  and  a 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  87 

species  of  malicious  envy  sprang  up  in  his  breast,  as 
he  thought  of  the  vast  difference  between  them  in  the 
scale  of  social  being,  and  of  the  supposed  wealth  and 
importance  of  his  host ;  and  he  expressed  a  mental 
wish  that  he  might  profit  by  the  connection.  Talbot 
was  possessed  of  a  deep  and  shrewd  cunning,  and  hid 
within  his  own  bosom  his  evil  thoughts  and  feelings. 

Breakfast  was  now  announced,  and  Mr.  Hartley  came 
in.  Talbot  was  presented  as  a  relative  by  Colonel 
Ormond. 

Hartley  was  a  far-seeing  man,  and  instinctively  dis 
liked  Talbot  from  the  first,  and  imagined  that  he  saw 
in  the  workings  of  his  countenance  the  symptoms  of 
a  debased  and  double-dealing  mind.  But  these  fancies 
he  suppressed  in  their  birth,  for  he  was  a  high-bred 
gentleman. 

The  three  breakfasted  alone ;  in  fact,  Ormond  wag 
embarrassed  in  what  manner  to  present  Marie  to  him. 
As  his  wife,  he  could  not,  for  he  loathed  deception, 
and  he  shrunk  from  stating  in  broad  terms  their  con 
nection  and  Marie's  condition.  He  loved  her  with  de 
votion,  and  she  deserved  it,  and  he  now  more  than 
ever  regretted  the  procrastination  of  a  necessary  step, 
in  regard  to  her,  which  he  knew  sooner  or  later  must 
be  taken. 

Hartley  had  never  been  regularly  presented  to  her, 
but  his  own  observation  and  good  sense  made  him 
comprehend  in  a  short  time  how  matters  stood ;  he 
saw  that  she  was  gloriously  beautiful,  and  wondered 
why  Colonel  Ormond  did  not  publicly  acknowledge 
her  as  his  wife,  but  he  kept  those  thoughts  to  himself. 
He  had  been  enlightened  by  Dr.  Grant,  who,  jealous 
of  the  honor  of  his  friend,  in  a  delicate  manner  hinted 


88  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

at  it.  Hartley  understood  him,  and  when  he  did  meet 
her,  it  was  with  profound  respect. 

Marie  often  took  her  meals  in  her  own  room,  and  it 
caused  no  surprise  that  she  did  not  appear  on  this 
morning. 

Talbot  was  advised  by  Colonel  Ormond  to  ride  over 
and  superintend  the  removal  of  his  baggage  himself. 

An  hour  after  breakfast  he  was  sitting  on  the  gallery 
indulging  in  his  cigar,  when  Dr.  Grant  rode  up.  He 
was  glad  of  it,  for  Colonel  Ormond  had  ridden  a  por 
tion  of  the  way  with  Talbot,  and  he  was  entirely 
alone. 

"Well,  Mr.  Hartley,"  he  exclaimed  familiarly,  as 
he  threw  his  bridle  over  a  picket,  "how  are  you  this 
morning  ?  I  thought  I  would  ride  over,  see  you  all, 
and  chat  a  while.  But  who  is  that  gander-shanked 
chap  who  is  going  along  the  road  with  Ormond?  I 
saw  them  as  I  came  through  the  field." 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  relative ;  a  fresh  Yankee  just  caught." 

"Phew!"  whistled  the  doctor.  "Well— they  do 
make  some  queer  ones  up  there  sure,  and  I  don't  like 
his  looks  certainly." 

"  Nor  do  I ;  but  it  would  scarcely  become  me  to  say 
it." 

"What  is  he  doing  here  ?" 

"  God  knows  ;  I  came  in  this  morning,  and  he  was  in 
the  parlor ;  he  may  have  sprung  from  the  ground,  but 
I  think  he  has  just  arrived  from  the  North." 

"  Well,  I- never  knew  before  that  Ormond  ever  had 
any  relatives." 

"  Doctor,  you  do  not  look  as  well  as  you  did,  when  I 
last  saw  you." 

"  It  is  anxiety,  Mr.  Hartley,"  he  answered,  becoming 
grave.  "  The  health  of  my  wife  is  bad ;  indeed,  I  am 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  89 

afraid  it  is  declining  daily ;  she  has  a  very  severe  pain 
in  her  chest,  and  a  cough ;  consumption  is  hereditary." 

"  I  hope  your  anxiety  has  exaggerated  her  disease." 

"  God  grant  that  it  may,  Mr.  Hartley  ;  but  I  have 
serious  thoughts  of  going  to  Havana  for  her  health." 
He  paused  a  while,  and  silently  meditated,  then*  sud 
denly  exclaimed :  "  How  long  do  you  remain  with  us, 
Mr.  Hartley?" 

"I  fear  doctor  that  my  stay  is  limited ;  I  came  here, 
a  perfect  stranger,  at  the  invitation  of  Colonel  Ormond, 
and  I  am  only  allowing  time  to  receive  replies  to  my 
letters  on  business  ;  but,  doctor,  go  where  I  may,  I  never 
shall  forget  the  noble  kindness  and  courtesy,  I  have 
received  at  his  hands.  He  is  all  that  a  man  could 
wish  to  be." 

"  I  fully  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Hartley,  and,  I  appre 
ciate  as  fully  as  you,  the  excellence  of  our  friend  ;•  but, 
by  the  way,"  he  added,  "what  a  pity  it  is,  that  he  is 
placed  in  such  a  situation  in  regard  to  a  woman  every 
way  worthy  to  become  his  wife!" 

"  Why  is  it  that  he  hesitates  in  the  matter  ?" 

"  Simply  shame,  dislike  to  give  eclat  to  the  fact  that 
she  is  not  his  wife,  and  still  a  slave." 

"Indeed!" 

"  Yes,  and  more  the  shame  ;  I  have  reasoned  with 
him  about  it,  and  he  has  promised  me  that  he  will  very 
soon  carry  it  into  effect,  but  alas ! — this  Southern  failing, 
procrastination.  But  Mr.  Hartley,  I  am  sorry  you  are 
thinking  of  going  so  soon ;  I  was  in  hopes  of  having 
you  with  us  for  some  time." 

"  I  thank  you,  doctor ;  but  it  is  important  that  I  re 
turn  North  soon ;  I  am  settling  up  my  own  affairs,  and 
it  is  probable  that  I  may  return,  and  live  permanently 


90  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

in  the  South ;  I  find  the  winters  at  the  North  are  too 
severe  for  me." 

"  Yes,  and  the  manners  and  customs,  also." 

"  Oh,  you  forget  that  I  am  a  native  of  the  North." 

"  Ay,  but  you  take  to  the  South,  naturally." 

"  I  like  it  extremely,  I  admit." 

"  To  return  to  Ormond,"  said  the  doctor,  lowering 
his  voice,  "  you  see  what  a  very  disagreeable  situation 
it  places  him  in." 

"  It  certainly  does." 

"And  she  is  so  handsome,  and  good,  and  so  accom 
plished.  You  have  conversed  with  her?" 

"  Seldom ;  but  I  perceive  she  is  educated." 

"  In  point  of  beauty,  she  excels  any  thing  I  ever 
saw ;  her  countenance  is  so  expressive,  and  Madonna- 
like,  so  pensive  and  sweet." 

"  Well  it  is  a  great  pity.  Here  is  a  noble,  whole-souled 
fellow,  he  loves  a  woman  who  is  as  beautiful  as  a  houri, 
and  as  good  as  an  angel ;  and  still  he  can't  present 
her  as  his  wife,  when  she  would  be  well  received  in  any 
society.  Here  she  is  without  company,  and  must  be 
ennuied  to  death." 

"  And  they  have  two  as  beautiful  children  as  I  ever 
saw." 

"  Ormond  is  not  really  ashamed  to  acknowledge  her ; 
for  matches  of  this  kind  are  common  in  the  "West  In 
dies,  and  even  in  this  State ;  she  is  fair  too. 

"  I  admire  that  peculiar  rich  tint ;  it  shows  a  warm, 
and  generous  blood.  She  is  a  Creole,  is  she  not  ?" 

"  A  Creole  !"  laughed  the  doctor.  "  You  Northern 
people  always  commit  an  error  about  that.  You  think 
a  Creole  is  a  Mulatto,  but  of  a  very  light  color  ?" 

"  Yes,  certainly,  is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  No,  a  Creole  is  a  mere  term  taken  from  the  Span- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  91 

ish,  meaning  a  native  descended  from  European  ances 
tors.  Now  some  would  suppose  her  a  Quadroon, 
which  is  seven  eighths  white  and  one  eighth  black ;  but 
she  is  not.  She  is  a  Quinteroon,  fifteen  sixteenths 
white,  and  one  sixteenth  black.  There  are  many  such 
in  our  State,  and  no  one  even  thinks  of  casting  a  re 
proach  on  them." 

"  Well,  she  is  a  dignified  lady,  and  would  do  honor 
to  any  circle." 

"  My  sentiments  exactly ;  but  I  understand  you  were 
over  at  Laufre's,  at  Bob's  funeral?" 

"  Yes,  Colonel  Ormond  and  I  rode  over." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hartley,  let  us  walk." 

Accordingly,  they  sauntered  out,  and  slowly  walked 
to  the  river.  As  they  reached  the  bank,  Louis  La- 
motte  rode  up.  He  leaped  from  his  horse  with  grace, 
and  came  forward,  saluting  them  both.  He  was  a  great 
favorite  with  the  doctor,  who  replied  to  him  kindly. 
He  had  a  string  of  snipe,  which  he  had  shot  that  morn 
ing,  to  present  to  Marie.  After  a  few  words,  he  left 
them  for  more  pleasant  society,  and  the  gentlemen  con 
tinued  their  walk. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"Yet  had  he  friends 

And  they  went  forth  to  cheer  him  on  his  way." 

H. 

AFTEK  dinner,  Colonel  Ormond  requested  Dr.  Grant 
to  walk  with.  him.  They  went  into  the  garden, 
and  in  a  sheltered  nook  surrounded  by  arbores-vitse, 
they  seated  themselves. 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  with  hesitation,  "  I  fear  you  will 
think  me  a  great  fool ;  but  I  have  placed  myself  in  a 
ridiculous  position."  The  doctor  remained  silent,  for 
he  knew  what  was  coming.  "  The  fact  is  I  have  been 
a  fool,"  resumed  he,  after  waiting  a  moment  to  see  if 
the  doctor  would  speak.  "  I  have  extended  an  invi 
tation  to  a.  young  man  who  comes  from  the  North, 
and  claims  to  be  a  kinsman,  without  taking  into  con 
sideration  the  situation  I  occupy  in  regard  to  Marie. 
Now,  doctor,  we  have  been  fast  friends  for  a  number 
of  years,  and  I  feel  that  I  can  unbosom  myself  to  you : 
I  owe  justice  to  her." 

"You  do,  Ormond,  you  do/'  replied  he  earnestly, 
"  and  it  is  a  shame  on  your  manhood  that  you  have 
not  long  ago  consummated  your  union;  the  -sooner 
you  have  this  long-retarded  justice  done  the  better;  I 
speak  plainly,  and  use  the  language  of  a  friend,  Or 
mond." 

"  That  is  as  it  should  be,  doctor,  but  you  well  know 
that  my  delay  has  been  caused  by — " 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  93 

"  Your  old  habit  of  procrastination ;  why,  Ormond, 
if  you  did  not  have  an  overseer,  your  plantation  would 
not  bring  you  in  seed  corn ;  you  take  things  too  easy, 
and  defer  what  you  should  attend  to ;  it  is  indolence 
and  a  reluctance  to  blazon  forth  this  matter." 

"  Doctor,  you  have  judged  me  rightly  in  this  matter, 
and  I  see  I  must,  I  must  attend  to  it." 

"Do  it  for  your  own  sake,  Ormond ;  do  it  for  hers ; 
for  your  children ;  make  them  legitimate." 

"  I  am  a  blind  fool  and  an  idiot  1"  passionately  ex 
claimed  Ormond,  who,  although  generally  calm,  was, 
when  aroused,  of  a  hurricane  mood.  "But,  doctor, 
this  fellow  Talbot — it  is  necessary  as  long  as  he  remains 
here,  that  he  should  sometimes  meet  her,  and  then 
you  know  the  negroes — the  truth  will  out." 

"I  understand  you,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  I  agree 
with  you,  it  is  much  better  that  the  truth  should  be 
told  him.  I  will  undertake  the  matter  if  he  does  not 
already  know  it." 

"  I  leave  it  to  you,  doctor." 

"  I  will  attend  to  it." 

"I  thank  you;  I  do  not  know  why  it  is,  but  to  this 
person  I  have  taken  a  slight  dislike,  an  aversion.  I 
am  ashamed  to  own  it,  but  there  is  a  something  about 
him  which  I  can  not  fathom.  He  appears  amiable 
enough,  and  tolerably  intelligent,  but  there  is  a  dull, 
restless  motion  in  his  eyes ;  withdraw  your  attention, 
and  he  is  gazing  at  you  with  a  dark  and  subtle  mean- 
ing." 

"  You  have  explained  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Hartley, 
but  as  for  me  I  don't  attach  so  much  importance  to 
this  sans  pareitte  of  yours.  He  is  a  raw  Yankee  boy, 
with  a  very  disagreeable  countenance.  But,  Ormond, 
there  is  this  thing  to  be  taken  into  consideration.  If 


94  THECEEOLEOKPHANS. 

he  is  now  an  unimportant  individual,  he  may  come 
in  as  your  heir." 

"How  do  you  mean  that?"  answered  Colonel  Or- 
mond,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  Simply  this,  Ormond.  You  are  possessed  of  valua 
ble  property  ;  you  die;  your  wife  and  children  are  not 
emancipated.  She  is  a  slave ;  your  children  are  illegiti 
mate.  They  can  not,  according  to  the  laws  of  Louisiana, 
become  your  heirs.  The  property  consequently  goes  to  the 
nearest  collateral  heir.  Who  is  he  ?  He  is  here  !  Will 
you  hesitate  longer  now  ?" 

"  Good  Heavens !  doctor,  to  what  an  awful  precipice 
you  have  dragged  me;  what  a  horrid  picture  you 
have  drawn!" 

"Only  Ormond,  that  you  may  avoid  the  danger, 
and  take  warning  from  the  scene  I  have  painted." 

"  I  can  hesitate  no  longer,"  cried  he,  with  the  veins 
on  his  forehead  swollen,  and  his  eyes  flashing  brightly. 
"  I  will  at  once  go  to  the  city !  I  will  face  degradation 
and  endure  shame  for  the  sake  of  those  I  love." 

"  Calm  yourself,  Ormond !  while  I  live  your  chil 
dren  have  a  friend,  even  if  they  have  no  other." 

Ormond  pressed  his  hand  silently,  and  with  the  un 
derstanding  that  a  communication  would  be  made  to 
Talbot,  they  separated. 

When  they  met  in  the  gallery,  a  cool  glass  of  claret 
awaited  them. 

"Mr.  Hartley,"  said  Colonel  Ormond,  "I  have  a  let 
ter  for  you;"  he  handed  it  to  him.  The  seal  was 
broken. 

"I  fear  now,  colonel,  that  my  visit  can  not  be  pro 
longed  at  present,"  said  he  to  Ormond,  at  the  same 
tune  handing  him  the  letter.  "I  have  no  longer  an 
excuse  for  tarrying." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  95 

Colonel  Ormond  returned  the  letter.  An  inquiry 
was  now  made  for  Talbot,  but  lie  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  In  a  short  time  he  came  in,  saying  that  he 
had  been  taking  a  stroll  over  to  the  sugar-house.  But 
this  was  false. 

About  ten  minutes  previous  to  the  conversation  we 
have  noted  as  occurring  in  the  garden,  Talbot  walked 
into  it,  invited  by  the  beauty  of  a  clump  of  cape  jes 
samine  ;  he  sat  down  on  a  seat  placed  there  and  fell 
into  a  reverie.  He  had  not  been  there  long  before  he 
heard  the  sound  of  voices  in  earnest  conversation  ;  his 
first  impulse  was  to  escape  their  observation ;  but  this 
he  could  not  do  without  exposing  himself  to  the 
charge  of  eaves-dropping ;  and,  thinking  perhaps  that 
he  might  become  possessed  of  some  secret,  kept  his 
station.  Suddenly  he  felt  an  electric  thrill  which 
seemed  to  startle  every  nerve  in  his  body,  and  made 
him  tremble  and  gasp  for  breath.  He  heard  the  words 
distinctly  uttered  by  Dr.  Grant.  "  You  are  possessed 
of  valuable  property ;  you  die ;  your  wife  and  children 
are  not  emancipated.  She  is  a  slave  ;  your  children  are 
illegitimate.  They  can  not}  according  to  the  laws  of  Louis 
iana,  become  your  heirs.  The  property  goes  to  the  nearest 
collateral  heir.  Who  is  he?  He  is  here /" 

These  words  were  heard  by  him.  in  his  place  of  con 
cealment,  and  they  astounded  and  confused  him.  As 
the  poor  miner,  delving  for  years  in  the  vast  cave,  is 
bewildered  and  stupified  by  the  glorious  light  of  day 
when  suddenly  seen,  he  was  in  a  like  manner  taken 
by  surprise  at  the  bright  prospect  unexpectedly  opened 
before  his  gaze.  A  light  had  been  shed  on  his  path, 
and  it  seemed  that  nothing  was  necessary  but  to  follow 
it.  His  dreams  would  be  realized,  he  would  roll  in 
gold,  and  his  ambition,  the  dream  of  years,  be  satisfied. 


96  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

The  one  object  of  his  life  was  now  to  play  for  this 
grand  stake  ;  and  to  its  successful  accomplishment,  he 
determined  to  devote  all  his  powers.  He  felt  that  he 
might,  ~by  a  certain  combination  of  circumstances,  ivithin 
his  control,  be  the  heir!  The  thread  of  his  future  life 
was  spun ;  he  could  see  the  end,  bright  and  glorious. 

In  the  evening,  Dr.  Grant  asked  him  to  walk.  Dur 
ing  the  stroll,  he  introduced  the  subject.  "  Mr.  Talbot " 
said  he,  "I  think  it  is  my  duty,  to  prevent  any  painful 
mistake  on  your  part,  to  state  to  you  the  position  of 
the  lady  of  this  house ;  she  is  not  Colonel  Ormond's 
wife."  This  Talbot  already  knew,  as  he  had  pumped 
Pierre  in  the  morning,  going  to  town. 

"It  is  common  in  this  country,  and  the  West  Indies, 
for  persons  to  live  together  as  man  and  wife  when 
they  are  not  really  married  and  their  union  has  not 
been  blessed  by  the  church ;  this  is  their  condition." 

"I  am  much  gratified,  doctor, ""said  he,  in  an  inno 
cent  manner,  "that  you  have  explained  this  matter  to 
me,  and  feel  obliged  to  you  for  it." 

"  It  is  due  to  you,  Mr.  Talbot,  as  a  relative ;  you  will 
know  how  to  treat  her  and  the  children." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  doctor,  I  shall  treat  her  with  all  the 
respect  I  would,  were  she  his  own  wife  really;  and, 
the  children  as  relatives." 

"  By  so  doing  you  will  please  Ormond,  and  gain  his 
friendship." 

It  was  with  pain  that  Colonel  Ormond  heard  the  de 
termination  of  Mr.  Hartley  expressed,  of  going  the 
next  morning  to  the  city,  and  thence  returning  to  the 
North ;  for  he  had,  by  his  gentle  deportment,  and  ur 
bane  manners,  won  considerably  on  him,  and  he  used 
many  arguments  to  induce  him  to  prolong  his  visit. 

He  replied  by  expressing  how  much  enjoyment  he 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  97 

had  had,  and  pledged  himself  again,  if  circumstances 
permitted,  to  return  to  the  South. 

Marie  spent  this  evening  in  the  gallery  with  the 
gentlemen,  accompanied  by  the  children.  The  conver 
sation  flowed  along  in  a  gentle,  pleasing  manner ;  each 
tried  to  confer  pleasure  on  the  others.  Even  Talbot, 
for  the  time,  ceased  brooding  over  his  projects,  and  Tor- 
got,  for  a  season,  the  objects  of  his  passion. 

Such  moments  seldom  occur,  but  when  they  do,  they 
mark  a  passage  in  a  man's  life ;  they  come  like  the 
sweet  songs  of  angels  ;  their  influence  lingers  around  us 
like  a  pleasing  dream ;  and,  as  life  advances,  their 
memory  grows  sweeter  and  sweeter.  And  this  recol 
lection  clings  to  us  like  some  dreamy  half  forgotten 
strain  of  music.  But  these  moments  never  return. 

Like  the  wearied  mariner,  tossed  about  by  wind  and 
wave  in  the  waste  of  waters,  we  find  ourselves  suddenly 
becalmed  near  some  sweet  placid  isle,  where  the  hues 
of  the  violet  and  the  tropical  green  are  mingled  with 
the  many  colored  tints  of  a  Southern  clime.  The 
wind  freshens,  and  it  is  passed,  the  illimitable  ocean  is 
around  us,  but  the  sweet  remembrance  of  that  fair  isle, 
its  soft  balmy  shore,  and  its  tiny  wavelets  breaking  in 
fairy  grottos,  clings  around  us  forever. 

Hartley  felt,  in  separating  next  morning  from  his 
generous  hosts,  a  feeling  of  sadness  ;  they  kindly  pressed 
him  to  remain,  yet  he  could  not ;  he^  mounted  his 
horse,  and  rode  away — yet  one  more  look  ;  they  stood 
in  a  family  group  in  the  gallery,  gazing  after  him  j~  the 
orange  boughs  waved  in  the  breeze,  and  seemed  to  bid 
him  farewell.  A  sigh  escaped  from  his  bosom,  men 
tally  he  blessed  the  family  altar,  he  urged  on  his  steed, 
and  was  seen  no  more. 

"Mr.  Talbot,"  said  Colonel  Ormond,  one  morning, 


98      ,  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

after  breakfast,  "you  must  amuse  yourself  as  you  best, 
can;  use  no  ceremony,  be  at  home,  and  let  not  any 
forms  restrict  your  enjoyment.  There  are  guns,  and, 
you  have  a  horse  at  your  service.  You  will  find  plen 
ty  of  game  back  of  the  plantation,  and  old  Pierre,  a 
negro  whom  you  will  find  about  the  Quarter,  will  be 
your  attendant." 

He  replied  in  a  suitable  manner,  and  the  colonel  rode 
out  to  attend  to  plantation  duties. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  Leave  us  not  yet — through  rosy  skies  from  far, 
Bat  now  the  song-birds  to  their  nest  return ; 
The  quivering  image  of  the  first  pale  star 
On  the  dim  lake  yet  scarce  begins  to  burn ; 
Leave  us  not  yet." 

TT  was  evening ;  the  sun  was  flinging  a  flood  of  gold- 
-*-  en  radiance  over  all  nature  ;  the  trees,  the  water,  all 
caught  a  tinge  of  the  crimson  hue,  as  the  declining  orb 
slowly  sunk  into  his  bath  of  glory.  Marie  was  sitting 
in  the  gallery  reading ;  the  children  were  playing  in  the 
yard  below.  Colonel  Ormond  rode  up,  and  Marie  de 
scended  the  steps  to  meet  him. 

"Marie,"  he  exclaimed,  taking  both  her  hands  in  his, 
and  looking  into  her  face ;  "I  have  some  news  for  you." 

"  I  can  not  imagine  it." 

"  "Well,  then,  Louis  Lamotte  is  going  to  Paris.  His 
guardian  has  consented  at  my  request  to  send  him,  so 
you  see  the  children  will  have  a  companion  on  their 
voyage." 

"  I  am  delighted  at  it,"  replied  she,  smiling,  at  the 
same  time  placing  in  his  hand  a  note. 

He  read  it. 

"  Monsieur  le  Colonel,  and  Madame  Marie : — I  am 

certain  of  setting  out  for  Paris,  by  the  tenth  of  next 

month.     If  you  will  entrust  your  children  to  my  care, 

vl  will  treat  them  as  my  own,  and  I  will,  as  well  as  mad- 

ame,  be  proud  of  your  confidence.    You  will  please 


100  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 


write  me,  and  advise  of  your  determination,  and 
when  you  will  be  in  the  city.  Accept  the  regards  of 
your  friend : 

"  JACQUES  CIRALLE."  * 

"You  give  me  a  Koland  for  my  Oliver,"  said  he, 
laughing,  "but  I  suppose  it  is  the  best  we  can  do, 
although  it  is  distressing  to  separate  from  them." 

"  Oh,  Charles  !  you  feel  doubtless  ;  but  what  is  your 
grief  to  a  mother's.     You  can  ride  about  over  the  \ 
plantation,  attend  to  your  duties,  see  company,  hunt,  j 
fish,  and  go  to  town.     I  am  alone ;  I  am  sad  and  soli-  j 
tary ;  I  go  from  room  to  room ;  1  miss  the  silvery  tone  ' 
of  hapjpy  voices,  the  light  merry  laugh,  the  tender 
caress  at  night,  when,  like  white  doves,  they  fold  up 
their  wings  for  rest ;  I  miss  the  murmured  prayer ;   I 
turn  from  room  to  room  with  a  shudder ;  I  feel  as  if 
they  were  dead,  for  no  gentle  hand  presses  mine,  and 
says,  '  Mother  /'     These  things  I  feel." 

"  Well,  Marie,"  replied  he,  speaking  gravely  and 
kindly,  "  since  you  take  it  so  much  to  heart,  do  not 
send  them  away  ;  keep  them  and  get  a  governess." 

"No,  Charles,  I  can  make  this  sacrifice  for  their 
sake.  I  am  ready  to  send  them." 

"Zoe!  Estelle!"  cried  he  to  the  children.  They 
sprang  toward  him,  for  his  voice  had  never  been 
raised  in  unkindness  to  them ;  flowers  were  scattered 
on  the  ground,  and  playthings  overturned  at  that 
voice. 

He  caught  them  up  in  his  arms,  they  pressed  their 
pure  little  rosy  lips  to  his?  and  Zoe  gazed  at  him  with 
her  great  "  dreamy  eyes,"  wondering  why  he  was  sol 
serious.     Estelle  ran  her  hands  into  his  locks,  andt 
leaned  fondly  on  him. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  101 

"  Zoe,"  lie  said,  at  length,  "  are  you  and  Estelle 
willing  to  go  to  school  ?" 

^    "  We  would  wish  to  go,  papa,"  said  they  both. 
^   "Do  you  know  you  will  have  to  cross  the  great 
sea?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Zoe,  "  but  mother  says  God  is  going  , 
with  us,  and  we  will  be  happy." 

Ormond  smiled  at  this  naive  remark.  "  God  is 
every  where,  my  child  ;  and  on  the  ocean,  or  at  home, 
never  forget  to  thank  him  for  all  his  kindness." 

"  We  do  thank  him,  papa.  Mother  makes  us  ask 
the  good  God  to  bless  you,  and  she  prays  for  you  so 
sweetly." 

Ormond  placed  them  down  gently*  that  remark,  so 
simple  and  unaffected,  showing  the  purity  of  woman's 
devotion,  touched  kis  heart,  and  he  walked  out  on  the 
river  bank  :  his/breast  was  full. 

That  night  he  sat  down  and  wrote  to  M.  Ciralle, 
thanking  him  for  his  offer,  and  embracing  it.  He  also 
sent  a  note  the  next  morning  to  M.  Le  Baron,  Louis' 
guardian,  expressing  a  wish  that  Louis  might  be  allowed 
to  go  over  on  the  same  vessel  with  his  children. 

Some  days  passed  away,  and  no  change  occurred 
among  our  characters.  Marie,  as  usual,  occupied  her 
self  in  needlework  and  in  preparing  for  Zoe's  and 
Estelle's  departure,  and  often  in  instructing  them  in 
their  religious  duties.  She  never  allowed  an  opportu 
nity  to  pass  without  inculcating  upon  their  minds 
some  holy  truth  or  pious  precept,  for  she  was  truly 
religious,  although  she  did  not  appertain  to  any  church. 
Bred  and  educated  in  the  tenets  of  the  Catholic  faith, 
she  had  in  her  earlier  intercourse  with  Ormond  been 
,  startled  by  the  principles  of  his  creed.  She  had  read 
and  conversed  with  others  on  doctrinal  points,  and 


102  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

although  not  abjuring-  the  Eomisli  Church  entirely, 
she  ceased  to  be  an  attendant  at  the  confessional.     The 
general  principles  of  the  sect  she  adhered  to  and  be 
lieved  in  ;  hence  her  reason  why  a  Catholic  institution! 
was  preferred. 

Colonel  Ormond  divided  his  time  between  Dr.  Grant 
and  Mr.  Herndon,  but  often  took  Talbot  with  him  to 
the  neighbors,  where  he  was  always  introduced  as  his 
relative.  When  not  occupied  thus,  Talbot  was  hunt 
ing  or  fishing,  away  back  in  the  recesses  of  the  swamp, 
with  old  Pierre  for  his  attendant,  who  was  in  his  eyes 
the  hero  of  a  hundred  tales. 

When  he  was  in  the  company  of  Marie,  he  assumed 
so  different  a  character  from  his  own,  that  she  ceased 
to  regard  him  with  that  strange  feeling  of  repugnance 
and  anxiety  which  he  at  first  inspired.  He  even  be 
came  a  favorite  with  the  children  ;  he  gathered  flowers 
for  them,  and  wove  them  into  garlands ;  he  carved 
pieces  of  wood  into  toys  and  crosses,  and  made  a 
thousand  fantastic  forms  of  them.  He  would  sit  for 
hours  with  his  pencil  and  colors,  and  form  some  bril 
liant  picture  with  vivid  hues,  to  captivate  their  senses. 
He  gave  Zoe,  as  the  eldest,  drawing  lessons,  under 
which  she  soon  exhibited  a  rare  and  delicate  taste  ;  or 
he  would  get  them  near  him,  and  plait  willow  baskets 
for  Estelle,  and  seem  to  listen  with  pleasure  to  her  ex 
pressions  of  delight ;  and  then  at  other  times  he  would 
please  them  by  the  sound  of  the  flute.  But  although 
he  thus  gained  on  their  esteem,  there  was  one  whom 
he  could  not  conciliate — that  was  Louis.  Do  what  he 
would,  Louis  ever  repelled  his  advances,  but  in  a  polite 
and  courteous  manner.  With  Talbot  he  was  grave, 
thoughtful  and  reserved ;  but  with  others  he  was  as 
gay  and  cheerful  as  a  happy  disposition  and  good 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  103 

temper  could  "make  him.  Talbot  could  not  but  ob 
serve  it,  .and  he  secretly  hated  him  for  it. 

Louis  could  not  understand  his  feelings  in  regard  to 
f  this  man ;  he  could  not  analyze  his  sensations ;  he 
only  knew  that  as  two  opposite  elements  brought  into 
contact  will  not  unite,  so  it  was  with  them ;  he  had 
nothing  in  common  with  him ;  but  they  could  not 
mingle,  and  he  disliked  him  instinctively  from  the 
first, 

Before  the  family,  Talbot's  face  wore  the  simple 
manners  of  a  well-meaning-  but  not  profound  man ; 
his  actions  were  common-place  ;  his  conduct  exhibited 
nothing  marked,  save  a  disposition  to  please ;  but  it 
was  in  the  solitude  of  his  chamber,  when  he  was  hid 
den  from  all  human  eyes,  when  no  one  was  near  to 
mark  his  actions,  and  betray  the  hidden  secrets  of  his 
soul :  then,  standing  at  the  window  of  his  room,  did 
he  gaze  over  the  fair  fields  fruitful  with  teeming  crops; 
then  would  the  inward  workings  of  his  passions  come 
forth;  then  would  he  murmur  at  that  Providence 
which  had  so  liberally  endowed  another,  and  put  the 
curse  of  poverty  on  himself;  then  would  his  form  ex 
pand,  his  chest  heave,  and  his  -eye  light  up  with  a 
fiendish  glare,  and  thoughts  as  dark  as  night  chase 
each  other  through  his  brain. 

Thus  remained  matters  for  some  weeks,  during 
which  time  arrangements  for  the  final  departure  of 
Zoe  and  Estelle  were  consummated.  Nothing  remained 
but  to  allow  the  period  to  elapse  until  the  sailing  of 
the  ship;  every  one  seemed  to  be  in  a  bustle,  and 
busy  for  some  time  previous.  There  was  a  packing 
and  unpacking  of  boxes,  a  putting  up  of  summer 
clothes,  and  laying  out  of  thicker  ones ;  then  a  substi 
tution  of  thin  ones  again,  as  a  thought  of  a  warm  day 


104:  THE    CEEOLE    OKPHANS. 

at  sea  suggested  itself.  There  was  a  making  up  01 
the  toilet,  and  a  thousand  little  things  done  which 
might  have  been  let  alone.  Even  old  Sally  forgot  to 
grumble,  and  walked  into  the  house  half  a  dozen  times 
a  day,  with  an  apron  full  of  lavender,  rue,  or  sweet 
marjorum,  "  to  pack  de  childen's  close  in"  and  which 
Marie  would  take  to  keep  from  hurting  the  old  thing's 
feelings,  long  after  every  thing  was  packed  and  ready 
to  be  sent  off.  Pierre  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  cuff  of  his 
jacket,  and  brought  a  lot  of  pecans  "  to  keep  the  little 
misses  from  bein'  hongry  on  de  road/'  Sylvia  occupied 
her  time  in  scolding  the  other  servants,  crying  until 
her  eyes  were  as  rell  as  a  water  turtle's,  and  in  pack 
ing  up. 

But  all  things  will  have  an  end,  and  so  did  this. 
The  fatal  day  at  length  arrived.  During  this  and  the 
preceding  one  a  watch  had  been  kept  up  on  the  river 
bank ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  evening  of  the  second 
day,  that  the  cry  of  the  little  negroes  of,  "  De  steam 
boat  corning !"  warned  Colonel  Ormond,  that  now  indeed 
the  first  step  was  to  be  taken.  Marie  wept  an  abund 
ance  of  tears,  as  she  took  the  children  in  the  garden, 
for  the  last  time ;  and,  under  the  old  oaks,  she  once 
more  impressed  uponftheir  minds  the  great  truths  she 
had  tried  to  implant  there,  in  her  many  conversa 
tions.  There,  under  the  deep  shade  of  those  old  trees, 
did  she,  this  pure  mother,  and  her  young  children,  hold 
sweet  converse,  to  serve  for  perhaps  many  years — per 
haps  forever  I  There  in  that  sweet  spot,  familiar  by  a 
thousand  joyful  associations ;  sacred  by  a  mother's  holy 
love ;  did  they  cling  to  each  other,  and  mingle  a  sacred 
grief  at  quitting  such  a  home,  it  might  be,  never  to  re 
turn  ;  its  joys,  and  cares,  its  pleasant  hours ;  its  flowers 
and  birds,  were  to  be  to  them  no  more. 


THE    CEEOLE    OKPHANS.  105 

"  Gloom  is  upon  thy  lonely  hearth, 
Oh  silent  house  I  once  filled  with  mirth  ; 
Sorrow  is  in  the  breezy  sound, 
Of  thy  tall  poplars  whispering  round." 

And  thus  it  was  until  Colonel  Ormond  found  them ; 
and  they  accompanied  him  to  the  landing. 

The  boat  was  nearing  the  shore ;  the  white  flag 
waved,  and  the  sonorous  tones  of  her  great  bell  replied ; 
the  white  wreaths  of  steam  arose ;  she  glided  along  and 
turned  in  to  the  bank.  The  baggage  was  piled  up  on 
the  wharf,  which  ran  out  a  few  feet  into  the  river. 
Then  came  a  crowd  of  negroes,  old  and  young,  yel 
low  and  black,  all  surrounding  the  party,  almost  suffo 
cating  them ;  and  each  desirous  of  bidding  a  personal 
farewell  to  the  children.  They  all  were  sorry,  many 
cried  bitterly,  and  the  whole  made  a  great  deal  of  noise ; 
each  one  too  was  emulous  of  being  distinguished  by 
their  greater  attention.  Some  brought  pecans,  some 
sugar-cane,  and  some  a  bunch  of  violets,  even  one  a 
young  bird.  Old  Sally  had  brought  a  memento. 

"Here,  Miss  Estelle,"  she  exclaimed,  "Dis  is  de  last 
laying  of  '  old  Frizzly}  I  was  gwine  to  set  em,  but  I 
fotch  'em  for  you  to  member  old  Sally  by/'  and  here 
she  forced  into  her  hand  the  handle  of  a  basket  con 
taining  about  a  dozen  fresh  eggs.  Estelle  looked  up, 
and  burst  out  laughing,  but  took  them.  Poor  old 
thing  I  in  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  she  thought  it  a 
suitable  present. 

Then  came  the  last  parting,  and  the  tears,  and  shak 
ing  of  hands,  and  then  it  was  all  over ;  the  planks 
were  drawn  on  board,  the  big  bell  sounded,  and  they 
were  on  the  bosom  of  the  muddy  Mississippi.  The 
girls  were  out  on  the  guards  waving  a  last  farewell ; 
there  they  stood,  answered  by  a  hundred  adieus,  and 


106  THE-CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

the  waving  of  many  hands  ;  the  voices  sounded  faint* 
er  amid  the  rush  of  steam,  the  crowd  grew  more  indis 
tinct,  and  at  last  dwindled  down  to  a  confused  mass  ;  a 
bend  in  the  river  shut  them  out  from  sight,  and  all 
was  over.  The  poor  children  retired  to  their  state 
room  to  weep. 

Talbot  had  stood  by  during  the  parting,  and  his 
heart  beat  too,  he  scarce  knew  why.  Colonel  Ormond 
requested  him  to  come  to  New  Orleans  in  a  few  days 
after  they  had  left,  so  as  to  allow  him  time  to  see  the 
children  off;  and  he  would  try  and  procure  him  a  sit 
uation  in  some  house  in  the  city. 

As  had  been  agreed  upon,  Louis  Lamotte  was  to  ac 
company  them ;  and  Colonel  Ormond  therefore  re 
quested  the  captain  of  the  steamer  to  land  at  Le  Ba 
ron's  plantation.  Accordingly,  as  she  hove  in  sight, 
her  bell  again  slowly  sounded  out  the  warning.  Dr. 
Grant  was  standing  on  the  levee,  with  Louis  beside 
him,  and  there  was  the  portly  form,  and  good-humored 
countenance,  the  grizzled  whiskers  d  la  militaire,  and 
the  broad  brimmed  hat  of  Mr.  Le  Baron.  A  happy 
smile  of  joy  lit  up  the  countenance  of  Louis  as  he  rec 
ognized  the  faces  of  Zoe  and  Estelle,  who  were  stand 
ing  on  the  guards,  with  old  Sylvia.  The  steamer 
rounded  to,  there  was  another  greeting — another  part 
ing,  and  away  plunged  the  good  boat,  freighted  ^vith 
many  anxious  souls. 

Dr.  Grant  remained  on  board ;  he  was  to  accompany 
them  to  the  city;* and  Louis  and  himself  sought  the 
ladies  cabin.  As  soon,  however,  as  the  doctor  was 
free,  he  and  Ormond  might  be  seen  strolling  down  to- 
'  ward  the  bar  for  a  little  toddy,  a  cigar,  and  a  hand  in 
one  of  the  numerous  card  parties ;  this  is  life  on  the 
Mississippi. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  107 

It  was  morning  again,  radiant  and  cheerful ;  the  sun 
light  sparkled  on  the  water,  and  the  pleasant  breeze 
came  refreshingly  up,  wafting  on  its  wings  the  fragrance 
of  a  far-off  field  of  flowers  from  some  bright  little 
isle.  New  Orleans  was  in  sight !  Oh  what  a  variety 
of  faces  that  announcement  aroused j  how  many  anx 
iously  crowded  forward  to  catch  a  first  glimpse  of  the 
metropolis  of  the  land  of  flowers !  To  our  party,  it 
told  of  an  early  separation  which  made  Marie's  heart 
bound  turaultuously  in  her  bosom.  To  some  it  spoke 
of  a  meeting  with  long  severed  friends.  See  the  un 
couth  youth  with  the  brass  watch-chain,  there  by  the 
bar,  trying  to  smoke  a  common  cigar.  See  the  lights 
and  shadows  on  his  countenance  ;  but  see  the  smile  of 
conscious  security  which  mingles  with  all.  What  does 
it^ denote  ?  Why  he  has  come  South  at  the  invitation 
of  a  friend  of  his  father,  to  be  put  as  a  clerk  in  his 
store.  .  He  is  provided  for  ;  let  him  pass. 

Turn  your  gaze  now  on  that  red-headed  youth  ;  see 
his  dress ;  look  at  the  assurance  of  the  cast  of  his 
beaver ;  see  that  air  of  nonchalance  he  tries  to  assume, 
with  his  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes  of  his  red  waistcoat. 
He  seems  to  look  down  on  all  around  him,  as  he  puts 
the  gold  head  of  his  cane  to  his  mouth  ;  but,  with  all 
his  sang  froid,  he  is  excited. 

He  is  a  member  of  one  of  the  u  first  families  of  Vir 
ginia."  A  brother  left  the  clay  hills  of  the  Old  Do 
minion  years  ago,  to  seek  his  fortune.  Time  rolled  on 
and  fortune  smiled ;  brother  after  brother  came  out, 
and  all  succeeded;  some  are  merchants,  some  in 
banks ;  but  never  mind,  they  are  men  every  inch,  and 
now  here  is  the  Joseph  of  the  flock  ;  he  has  come  with 
all  his  pride  of  birth  and  high  family  notions,  to  be 
made  a  man  of  in  his  turn,  But  here  is  another  char- 


108  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

acter ;  look  at  that  comical  phiz — that  inimitable  grin, 
and  that  air  of  independence ;  see  his  dress,  made  at 
Lome,  woven  and  spun  by  rosy- cheeked  and  cherry- 
lipped  sisters ;  look  at  those  metal  buttons  big  enough 
for  saucers;  coat,  vest  and  pants,  all  the  same,  and 
that  unapproachable  hat.  "Bar-keeper,  I  guess  I'll 
take  a  cigar — how  much  dew  ye  ask  for  'em?  Gosh  1 
I  can't  stand  that !  whar  I  come  from  yeou  can  git 
tew  for  a  cent."  Some  day  you  may  find  him  presi 
dent  of  a  bank. 

But  who  is  he — that  young  handsome  fellow  with 
new  hat,  fine  pantaloons  and  elegant  boots?  He  is 
lounging  in  one  chair,  and  his  legs  thrown  carelessly 
over  the  back  of  another ;  his  eyes  are  half  shut,  and 
he  indolently  smokes,  as  if  it  were  a  labor ;  see  his 
languid  air.  He  is  the  son  of  a  cotton-planter,  and  is 
going  to  buy  more  niggers  to  raise  more  cotton,  to  buy 
more  niggers  with.  Do  you  see  that  person  near  him, 
with  the  shad -bellied  coat,  white  hat,  and  crape  around 
it,  bright  buttons,  and  a  profusion  of  jewelry?  He  is 
a  human  shark,  a  gambler;  he  has  his  eye  on  the 
aforesaid  young  man.  A  social  game  will  be  intro 
duced,  and  the  gold  will  fly;  maybe  his  indulgent 
father  will  not  see  much  of  the  money  for  the  draft  he 
gave  him  for  the  balance  of  his  crop ;  it  will  melt 
away,  and  go  as  easy  as  the  half  dollar  he  carelessly 
throws  to  the  waiter  who  brushes  his  pants.  Here  are 
many  more  characters.  There  is  a  young  doctor,  who 
can  scarce]y  decide  whether  he  will  oust  the  house-, 
surgeon  of  the  Charity  Hospital,  or  settle  in  the  coun 
try  ;  and  if  the  latter,  he  can  not  decide  to  what  por 
tion  to  give  the  benefits  of  his  vast  stores  of  knowl 
edge.  There  is  a  young  lawyer,  a  graduate  of  Cam 
bridge,  going  to  settle  somewhere-  and  here  is  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  109 

dapper  clerk  from  Philadelphia;  here  the  broken- 
down  merchant  of  Boston,  whose  paper  was  once 
good  in  Calcutta,  or  on  the  Bourse  in  Paris,  or  among 
the  brokers  of  London ;  he,  sad  and  solitary,  is  going 
to  seek  for  some  subordinate  situation  in  the  city  of 
New  Orleans.  And  here  is  the  adventurer,  who  is 
ready  for  any  thing,  from  being  sent  as  a  missionary 
among  the  Indians,  to  going  on  a  slaving  voyage. 

Here,  also,  is  the  jolly  old  sugar-planter,  whose 
name  is  good  for  many  a  thousand ;  and  by  his  side 
the  cotton-planter,  who  numbers  his  bales  far  up  in  the 
hundreds ;  both  are  neatly  but  plainly  dressed ;  and 
by  them,  stands  a  New  York  tailor,  who,  by  his  airs 
and  habit,  seems  to  be  able  to  buy  them  both. 

.  Far  up  in  the-  lady's  cabin  are  others,  girls  coming 
South  to  seek  husbands,  and  there  with  sharp  nose, 
vinegar  aspect,  and  eyes  like  a  raccoon,  sits  a  young 
lady  of  thirty -three ;  she  has  come  South  to  act  as 
governess  in  a  gentleman's  family. 

But  we  have  no  further  time  to  individualize,  the 
boat  reaches  the  levee,  and  is  pushing  her  way  among 
a  number  of  others,  lying  there  from  every  portion 
of  the  country.  The  mass  of  human  beings  on  board, 
tumultuously  hurrying,  pressing  forward,  pressing 
back,  carpet-bags,  trunks,  band-boxes,  wig-boxes,  all  are 
mingled  in  confusion ;  and  the  crowd  below  on  the 
wharf,  shout  and  laugh  and  jest,  and  try  to  rush 
aboard ;  and  the  tribe  of  cabmen  and  hotel  runners, 
and  porters  mix ;  and  the  crowd  above,  and  the  crowd 
below  gaze  on  each  other  a  moment,  each  seeking  for 
some  familiar  face,  then  advance  like  the  heads  of  two 
contending  armies,  meet,  unite  and,  as  some  chemical 
mixture  poured  into  a  turbulent  pool  in  a  moment  be 
comes  calm,  lost  in  each  other,  swallowed  up,  no  longer 


110  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

distinguishable,  and  our  characters  are  also  covered  up 
in  mist,  and  absorbed  in  the  toil  and  turmoil  of  a  great 


Dr.  Grant,  who  had  charge  of  the  outfit  of  Louis,  of 
course  became  with  him  a  guest  of  Colonel  Ormond. 
We  will  not  follow  the  minutiae  of  events  in  their  life 
in  New  Orleans.  Colonel  Ormond  and  Dr.  Grant 
would  stroll  down  town  in  the  morning  at  nine  ;  return 
up  town  at  eleven,  dine  at  three,  see  friends,  or  devote 
themselves  to  the  family,  or  gradually  saunter  home  in 
the  heat  of  the  day  ;  in  the  evening  stroll  down  to  the 
Place  d  'Armes,  and  after  a  promenade  around  its 
ancient  walks,  and  paying  a  tribute  of  solemn  interest 
to  the  old  Cathedral,  bring  themselves  up  to  the  steps 
of  the  Cafe,  de  Ville  ;  there  seated  in  a  quiet  corner, 
with  a  cup  of  coffee,  for  which  this  place  was  ever 
famed,  and  a  fragrant  cigar,  they  would  listen  with 
interest  to  the  conversations  of  the  old  French  and 
Spanish  residents,  who  always  gather  around  the 
domino-tables,  drink  coffee,  and  talk  about  "  lang 
syne" 

I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  I  never  could  approach 
the  old  church  of  St.  Louis,  and  gaze  upon  its  antique 
/towers,  its  time-stained  walls,  its  old  Tuscan  ground 
work  with  its  quaint  foreign  style,  without  offering  a 
sigh  to  times  gone  by,  with  a  feeling  of  reverence  and 
interest.  Viewing  it  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
square  in  connection  with  its  wings,  the  public  build 
ings,  and  letting  the  imagination  wander  back  to  the 
time  when  the  cavaliers  of  Spain  trod  in  their  pride 
its  aisles,  and  the  yellow  flag  floated  from  its  towers,  or 
the  tri-color  of  France  usurped  its  place,  it  recalls  the 
days  of  Bienville,  Carondolet,  Vidal,  and  Casa  Calvo. 
The  events,  which  had  passed  in  the  apartments  of  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  Ill 

City  Hall,  and  changed  the  fate  of  a  nation,  and  the 
scenes  which  had  taken  place  on  that  old  square 
when  "  the  star-spangled  banner"  arose  before  the  eyes 
of  a  delighted  people,  and  proclaimed  them  free.  On 
treading  its  ancient  aisles,  and  before  its  bright  altar 
gazing  on  those  living  forms  which  have  rendered  the 
pencil  of  Raphael  immortal,  and  drinking  in  those 
heavenly  sounds  which  float  around  its  heavy  arches ; 
all  these  bewilder  and  delight.  Or,  stand  over  the 
dust  of  the  pro  ad  rulers  of  this  chosen  land,  and 
among  them  good  Father  Sedella,  who  for  half  a  cen 
tury  officiated  at  its  altar ;  the  effect  is  the  same,  and 
a  dim  misty  crowd  of  ghosts  of  departed  events  pass 
and  repass  before  you,  and  chasten «the  spirit. 

In  this  spot,  so  dear  to  the  old  citizens,  did  Ormond 
and  Dr.  Grant  love  to  linger,  and  in  this  quiet  place 
watch  the  devotees,  as  they  left  the  busy,  bustling 
world  with  all  its  cares  and  joys,  to  render  adoration 
where  it  is  due. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


"None  is  poor  but  the  mean  in  mind, 
None  is  wealthy  but  the  affluent  in  soul." 

TUTPZB. 

"  I  am  determined  to  prove  a  villain. 
*  *  *  *  * 

Plots  have  I  laid,  inductions  dangerous." 

RICHARD  III. 


TITE  left  Talbot  alone  on  the  plantation ;  he  never 
met  the  overseer  except  in  some  of  his  rambles. 
With  Pierre  he  wandered  over  the  broad  domain ;  he 
spent  whole  days  upon  the  lake,  or  penetrated  far  into 
the  swamp ;  and  while  he  thus  occupied  his  time,  he 
brooded  over  his  fancies.  He  hoped  and  prayed  that 
some  contingency  might  arise  by  which  he  would  be 
uthe  only  surviving  relative,"  and  that  Colonel  Or- 
mond  would  defer  and  procrastinate,  until  too  late,  the 
act  of  justice  to  Marie.  And  while  he  thus  allowed 
his  mind  to  ponder  on  this  theme,  he,  even  he,  would 
shudder  as  strange  phantoms  would  flit  across  his 
brain.  So  horrible  his  dreams  that  he  dared  not  even 
speculate  on  this  too  much. 

A  night  or  two  after  the  departure  of  Colonel  Or- 
mond,  Talbot  was  sitting  alone ;  lights  were  brought 
in,  his  eyes  were  bent  on  the  fire,  musing  on  the  events 
of  the  past  few  months  ;  his  foul  imagination  was  run 
ning  riot  with  his  reason.  Memory  was  busy  with  the 
"  scenes  that  were,"  and  visions  of  other  days  floated 


THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS.  113 

around  him — ids  father's  familj,his  gray -haired  mother, 
his  blooming  sisters,  all,  all  gone ;  and  he  left  to  strug 
gle  on  alone  with  poverty.  Ay !  that  poverty  and 
deep  degradation,  the  pitiless  master,  and  the  cold, 
unsympathizing  world;  and  they  too  were  fled,  and 
the  dream  was  changed. 

As  we  have  before  said,  the  family  of  Talbot  were 
poor,  but  respectable;  his  father  had  died  while  he 
was  quite  young,  and  the  whole  support  of  three  sis 
ters  and  himself  devolved  upon  the  mother.  She  pos 
sessed  a  small  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and 
with  the  help  of  her  eldest  girl,  succeeded  in  procuring 
sewing.  But  even  this  did  not  last ;  death  called  her 
away,  and  then  soon  followed  one  of  the  younger  sis 
ters.  About  this  time,  a  man  who  was  in  a  small 
business,  and  whom  the  family  had  worked  for,  be 
came  intimate  at  the  house  ;  the  result  was,  the  seduc 
tion  of  the  youngest  girl  and  her  desertion  of  the 
family.  A  fatal  disease  soon  carried  off  the  eldest 
one,  and  Talbot  was  left  alone.  Out  of  compassion, 
he  was  taken  as  an  errand-boy  by  a  commercial  house, 
and  finding  him  possessed  of  a  good  deal  of  natural 
shrewdness  and  capacity,  the  senior  member  of  the 
firm  sent  him  to  school.  Here  he  acquired  the  knowl 
edge  he  possessed,  and  being  naturally  intelligent,  he 
soon  outstripped  his  class-mates.  His  prospects  were 
ruined  by  the  death  of  his  kind  patron,  and  in  a  short 
time  the  dissolution  of  the  house  deprived  him  of  his 
situation.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  barely  supported 
himself  by  any  thing  which  offered  ;  many  nights  he 
went  supperless  to  bed,  and  many  others  he  had  no 
bed  at  all.  ftrom  this  date,  living  in  destitution,  he 
spent  three  years  among  the  lowest  and  vilest  of  a 


114  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

great  city,  and  from  this  period  may  be  dated. Ms 
ruin. 

He  secured  an  humble  situation  at  a  pitiful  salary,. 
which  he  held  until  his  long-cherished  design  of  com 
ing  South  was  carried  into  execution.  It  was  during 
his  association  with  the  low  and  corrupt  that  a  color 
ing  was  given  to  his  future  life.  He  was  not  by  nature 
gifted  with  any  brilliant  qualities  of  mind,  but  seemed 
in  a  supereminent  degree  to  be  possessed  of  duplicity, 
and  to  a  casual  observer  could  pass  for  one  deeply 
learned.  From  his  infancy  he  had  seen  the  influence 
and  power  of%ealth;  he  therefore,  when  he  had  ar 
rived  at  the  years  of  manhood,  sought  the  fellowship 
of  young  men  whose  means  were  large.  Those  who 
were  dissolute  and  profligate  soon  became  his  firm 
friends,  and  many  was  the  douceur  he  received  from 
them  for  lending  his  aid  in  gratifying  their  pleasures. 

He  had  long  resolved  in  his  own  soul,  and  it  had 
become  the  fixed  and  predominant  idea  in  his  subtle 
mind,  to  one  day  revel  in  wealth,  to  be  the  master  of 
gold  for  its  own  sake,  and  for  the  power  it  gave  its 
possessor  over  others.  This  was  what  turned  his  steps 
to  the  South.  Allured  by  the  golden  dreams  he  had 
formed,  and  descriptions  from  others,  he  had  long 
determined  to  desert  an  arid  soil  and  frigid  climate, 
and  emigrate  to  the  land  of  sunshine  and  gold.  With 
this  intention  he  hoarded  every  cent,  until  he  had  ac 
cumulated  sufficient  to  carry  him  to  the  Eldorado  of 
his  hopes  and  wishes. 

For  some  years  previous  to  his  leaving  the  North, 
he  had  contracted  an  intimacy  with  a  young  man  by 
the  name  of  William  Stamps.  ^ 

This  person  lived  in  the  same  establishment  with 
him,  and  consequently  they  were  thrown  much  into 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  115 

each  other's  society ;  a  similarity  of  tastes  soon  drew 
the  bonds  of  their  intimacy  closer,  and  they  became 
warm  friends.  The  same  feelings  and  habits,  which 
characterized  Talbot,  exhibited  themselves  in  Stamps, 
with  this  exception :  Stamps  loved  money  with  a 
devoted  and  ardent  feeling,  simply  as  the  means  of 
gratifying  his  passions,  of  which  wine  and  women 
were  not  the  least.  He  had  been  well  brought  up 
until  that  age  at  which  boys  are  sent  off  to  shift  for 
themselves ;  bad  companions  had  converted  him  into 
a  depraved  reprobate.  He  had  but  one  virtue,  if  vir 
tue  it  can  be  termed,  seeing  that  it  if  possessed  by 
many  of  the  inferior  animals  in  an  eminent  degree : 
he  was  constitutionally  brave,  and,  had  he  lived  at  a 
period  when  courage  could  have  been  called  forth,  he 
might  have  become  distinguished.  He  was  two  years 
the  senior  of  Talbot ;  but  instead  of  a  low,  tortuous 
policy  being  pursued,  he  went  straight  to  the  point  at 
once.  He  was  a  bold  but  unscrupulous  man ;  he  did 
not  possess  that  prudent,  cautious,  self-preserving  pol 
icy  which  the  other  had;  his  was  the  subservient 
mind  to  Talbot's.  He  was  the  one  to  execute,  bold 
and  confident  if  guided  by  a  superior  mind,  but  mys 
tified  and  lost  if  not  directed  and  left  to  himself.  Both 
combined  made  a  pair  to  be  feared  and  avoided. 

This  much  premised,  we  return  to  Mr.  Talbot, 
whom  we  left  comfortably  sitting  by  the  fire.  Supper 
was  over,  and  he  was  virtuously  laying  plans  to  make 
a  fortune,  when  he  suddenly  thought  of  Stamps. 

When  he  parted  from  him,  he  had  faithfully  prom 
ised  to  write,  and  to  pave  the  way  for  his  advent ;  this 
promise  now  came  across  his  memory ;  and  he  arose 
from  his  seat.  "  Confound  it  I"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  have 
neglected  poor  Stamps  very  much ;  I  promised  to  write 


116  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

often,  and  here  I  have  been  some  weeks,  and  have  not 
thought  of  him.  It  will  not  do  to  neglect  him,  for  he 
may  be  of  use  to  me  some  of  these  times,  and  I  must 
keep  him  in  play.  He  reached  to  the  mantle  and  took 
a  cigar,  a  small  vase  of  which  was  always  ready. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  continued,  as  he  slowly  lit  it,  and 
watched  its  glowing  point — li  well,  my  friend,  we  are 
situated  differently  now  from  what  we  were  once  ;  you 
are  plodding  on  behind  the  counter,  peddling  calico 
and  pins ;  and  I — ah — this  is  a  confounded  good  cigar. 
Well,  well ;"  and  here  he  sat  down  again,  and  relapsed 
into  his  musing.  His  thoughts  again  ran  upon  his  form 
er  life,  and  his  clerkship ;  the  many  Sabbath  walks 
they  had  taken  into  the  suburbs.  Many  a  deep  and 
envious  sigh  had  escaped  them,  as  they  eyed  the  splen 
did  equipages,  when  they  dashed  by,  in  all  their  glory 
and  pride,  of  gold,  and  silver  platings,  with  dashing 
steeds,  proud  menials,  and  voluptuous  inmates,  rolling 
along  to  church.  Then  would  they  fall  into  conversa 
tions,  in  which  romantic  visions  of  wealth,  and  luxu 
ry  were  predominant,  until  they  were  beyond  the  noise 
of  streets,  where  the  nabob  moved  in  all  his  glory, 
until  they  were  far  up  in  the  green  woods :  they  then 
would  recline  on  some  seat  of  stone  in  the  public 
grounds,  or  on  a  mossy  bank,  and  dream  away  the 
day ;  then  returning,  dine  at  some  cheap  restaurant,  in 
which  the  viands  were,  by  the  excitement  of  their  im 
aginations,  made  to  resemble  some  rare  banquet. 

Again  Talbot  rose  and  paced  the  room,  then  sudden 
ly  seating  himself,  drew  up  the  light,  opened  his  port 
folio,  and  penned  the  following  letter,  which  will  ex 
hibit  the  nature  of  his  musings : 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  117 

" PLANTATION,  PARISH  of ,  LA. 

December  10th,  18 — . 

DEAR  STAMPS:— Upon  parting  with,  you  in 
New  York,  I  promised  to  write  on  my  way,  and  cer 
tainly  upon  my  arrival  in  this  country ;  but  the  fact 
is,  I  have  had  my  time  so  much  occupied  that  I  have 
had  no  leisure. 

"  Billy,  imagine  your  friend  now  sitting  in  a  splen 
didly  furnished  room  by  a  fire  ;  a  first  rate  cigar  (not 
like  them  we  used  to  smoke),  and  plenty  of  servants  to 
wait  upon  me,  and  all  this  upon  a  fine  sugar  plantation. 

"I  found  upon  my  arrival  a  relation,  who  is  the 
owner  of  it ;  a  fine  fellow  he  is  too,  and  as  liberal  as  he 
can  be.  He  has  got  the  most  beautiful  woman  you 
ever  saw,  and  two  sweet  little  girls,  and  as  much  mo 
ney  as  would  burn  up  a  wet  dog.  -I  spend  my  time 
very  pleasantly,  and  the  gentlemen  around  here  are 
gentlemen ;  they  are  just  as  different  from  what  we  have 
heard  as  you  can  imagine.  Nothing  like  what  the 
Northern  people  think  ;  they  are  affable  and  kind,  not 
proud,  as  they  are  up  there. 

"  I  shall  leave  in  a  few  days  for  New  Orleans,  which, 
is  only  a  day's  journey,  to  go  into  business. 

"Billy,  this  country  comes  up  to  the  idea  of  what 
we  formed  of  it.  It  is  now  December ;  with  you  the 
weather  is  as  cold  as  Charity,  while  with  us  the  air  is 
as  bland  as  April.  The  garden  and  yard  are  full  of 
flowers  and  fruit ;  ay  I  and  the  orange-trees  are  loaded- 
yes,  oranges !  regular  golden  fruit.  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  Stamps  ?  And  then  go  into  the  sugar- 
house,  see  the  number  of  slaves  ;  see  their  operations, 
the  machinery,  the  sugar  boiling,  and  then  the  net 
amount  of  the  sugar  hogsheads,  and  the  sea  of  mo 
lasses.  Ah,  Stamps !  your  mouth  waters. 


118  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  Wei],  there  is  a  negro  always  at  my  service,  to  go 
out  hunting  with  me;  and  there  is  also  a  lake  and  a 
boat.  What  would  you  give  to  be  able  to  say, 
'Bring  out  my  horse !'  and  in  a  few  minutes  you  have 
him  at  the  door,  ready  saddled  for  you  to  mount,  and 
then  you  can  ride  away,  and  stay  as  long  as  you 
choose  ;  go  to  the  house  of  a  neighbor  and  dine ;  be 
treated  like  a  prince  ;  or  go  down  to  town  and  drink 
with  gentlemen  who  spend  more  in  cigars  and  liquor 
in  a  year  than  old  Hunks  is  worth ;  come  back  in  the 
evening,  have  no  one  to  say  to  you,  '  Where  have  you 
been,  sir?'  like  we  used  to  do,  if  we  staid  a  minute 
over  our  time  in  going  to  our  meals,  and  tremble  in 
our  shoes  for  fear  of  loosing  our  place. 

"  The  only  thing  I  lack  now  is  your  company, 
Stamps  ;  and  that  I  must  have,  sooner  or  later.  I  will 
as  soon  as  I  get  established,  exert  myself  in  procuring 
you  a  situation.  Colonel  Ormond  which  is  the  name 
of  my  relation,  told  me  to  come  to  New  Orleans  in  a 
few  days  after  him ;  I  suppose  he  intends  to  provide 
for  me.  I  thought  at  first  that  he  did  not  look  upon 
me  with  a  very  kind  eye,  and  the  lady  less  so  ;  but  I 
have  just  '•spread  my  self J  and  tried  to  please,  and  now 
I  see  a  great  deal  better  feeling.  At  first,  she  seemed 
to  be  as  afraid  of  me  as  if  I  were  a  bear,  but  now  she 
sits  and  laughs,  while  I  sketch  faces  for  the  children. 

"  Time,  with  corresponding  action  on  my  part,  will 
banish  every  thing  but  want  of  confidence. 

"  The  colonel  thinks  it  his  duty  to  do  all  he  can  for 
his  relative;  and  I  can  not  resist  the  sweet  temp 
tation  of  letting  him  do  as  he  pleases ;  the  more  so  as 
I  can  do  nothing  for  myself. 

"  They  have  now  gone  to  New  Orleans,  to  send  the 
two  little  girls,  { Zoe  and  EstellJ  to  Paris  to  school ; 


THE    CKEOLE    OKPHANS.  119 

j  by  the  way,  speaking  of  them,  they  are  of  that 
beauty  which  you  benighted  Northerners  little  dream 
of;  pure  Italian  like,  with  the  olive  and  rose  strug 
gling  for  the  mastery  in  their  cheeks ;  while  their  eyes 
are  large,  soft,  and  "expressive ;  forms  like  sylphs. 
Ah,  my  boy !  your  mouth  streams  water — they  are 
the  mere  inception  of  the  beautiful.  If  the  bud  is 
thus,  oh,  what  will  the  flower  be!  This  'honey-bell 
and  night-star1  would  captivate  your  senses. 

"I  find  the  people  here  all  tinged  with  a  religious 
feeling ;  but  it  seems  as  if  they  were  unconscious  of  it. 
Take,  for  example,  to  exhibit  the  difference,  a  Northern 
man,  sent  to  Sunday  school  from  the  time  he  is  nine 
days  old,  church  three  times  a  day,  and  once  during 
the  week — class  meetings  and  Bible  societies,  crammed 
to  repletion  with  religious  tracts,  send  him  South,  and 
they  are  the  very  men  who  set  morality  at  naught, 
hunt,  fish,  go  to  town  on  Sunday,  and  do  every  thing 
which  is  condemned  by  the  Christian  world;  while 
you  find  the  Southern  gentleman,  raised  in  luxury 
from  infancy,  is  the  one  who  seems  to  have  an  intuitive 
veneration  for  the  Sabbath,  and  for  all  things  holy.  I 
have  learned  this  much  from  observation.  I  suppose, 
however,  it  is  the  way  we  at  the  North  are  raised ;  we 
become  surfeited  with  religion  at  home. 

"  But,  heigho  !  here  I  am  giving  a  moral  discourse, 
and  am  drawing  this  letter  out  too  long.  I  merely 
designed  to  say  that  I  found  this  land  of  the  South 
to  be  equal  to  what  I  imagined  it. 

"  Write  very  soon — I  will  reply — and  if  I  get  into 
a  situation,  I  will  not  wait  to  receive  yours. 

"  Adieu,  Billy,  and  believe  me  as  ever, 

"  Your  friend, 
"  TALBOT." 


120  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  "Well,"  lie  exclaimed,  as  lie  threw  down  tlie  pen, 
and  gave  a  deep  sigh,  "  that 's  over,  and  I  call  that  a 
non-committal.  It  is  not  in  my  style,  but  he  will 
attribute  that  to  my  coming  South,  and  the  change  in 
my  situation."  And  here  he  threw  himself  back,  and 
again  indulged  in  visions. 


CHAPTEE   XII. 

"  They  that  go  down  to  tho  sea  in  ships,  that  do  business  in  great  waters,  these 
see  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  his  wonders  in  the  deep."— PSALM  cvii.  23,  21 

TT  was  another  mild  and  lovely  day,  as  the  whole 
•*•  family  of  Colonel  Ormond  set  out  to  visit  the  ship 
which  was  to  be  the  home  of  Zoe  and  Estelle  for  so 
many  weeks.  She  was  called  "Jeanne  d'Arc,"  and 
had  been  selected  by  Mr.  Civalle',  as  combining  more 
of  the  comforts  and  elegancies  he  loved  than  any 
other.  She  was  a  light,  clipper  ship,  fitted  up  in 
magnificent  style.  Along  the  street,  amid  boxes  and 
barrels,  bales  and  chests,  tierces  and  casks,  to  the  levee 
— amid  drays  and  carriages,  fruit-merchants,  and  Jew- 
peddlers — steamboat  hands  and  sailors — our  party  went 
wondering,  and  taking  note  of  all,  curious  and  unusual. 
They  were  joined  by  Mr.  Civalle  and  his  Iady7  a 
pleasant  affable  little  Frenchwoman,  with  a  black  eye 
and  handsome  teeth.  There,  with  a  thousand  gay 
flags  fluttering  in  the  breeze;  with  their  taut-drawn 
rigging,  and  their  yards  cock-bill ;  their  tall  tapering 
spars,  and  loosened  sails ;  the  noise  of  the  crowd  on  the 
levee  around ;  the  orders  of  the  mates,  arid  the  merry 
song  of  the  seamen ;  there  lay,  side  by  side,  vessels  of 
many  nations.  The  levee  was  strung  with  goods  of 
every  clime ;  and  every  language  was  echoed  in  the 
ears  of  the  passer-by,  as  he  trod  the  wharves  of  the 
Queen  City  of  the  South  West.  The  roll  of  vehicles 

6 


122  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

— the  shouts  and  laughs  of  the  crowd — the  chattering 
of  the  market-people — the  orders  of  the  stevedore,  as 
he  directed  the  labor  of  his  men— the  inquiries  and 
replies,  in  foreign  tongues,  of  clerks  discharging  car 
goes — the  shrill  piping  of  the  Frenchman — the  soft 
and  melodious  Italian — the  jawbreakers  of  the  crowd 
of  Dutch  from  some  emigrant-ship,  with  their  little 
caps,  short  jackets,  long  pipes,  and  metal  buttons,  as 
they  came  along  in  a  drove,  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren — all,  all  formed  a  strange  and  novel  concourse 
of  sights  and  sounds  to  more  than  one  of  the  party. 

At  last  they  gained  the  pier,  and  were  met  by  the 
captain  of  the  ship.  He  was  an  old  friend  of  M. 
Civalle's,  and  a  handsome,  well-informed  gentleman. 
The  "Jeanne  d'Arc"  was  a  new  vessel,  built  in  a 
superior  manner,  and  bound  for  Havre. 

They  were  showed  into  the  cabin ;  the  saloons,  state 
rooms,  bath-house,  all  were  seen,  and  received  a  share 
of  their  attention  and  praise. 

Colonel  Ormond  inscribed  the  names  of  the  voyageurs 
on  the  register. 

They  at  length  expressed  themselves  satisfied,  and 
departed. 

The  day  was  fixed  for  the  sailing  of  the  vessel,  and 
now  all  things  were  held  in  readiness  for  that  event. 
Marie  cried,  and  declared  she  could  not  consent  for 
the  girls  to  leave  her ;  and  then  turned  and  scolded 
Ormond,  because  he  agreed  that  it  should  be  deferred. 
But  at  length  yielding  to  a  stern  necessity,  she  made 
up  her  mind,  and  nerved  herself  up  to  the  last  sorrow 
ful  sacrifice. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


'  My  child,  my  child,  thou  leavest  me !    I  shall  hear 
The  gentle  voice  no  more  that  blest  mine  ear 
With  its  first  utterance ;  I  shall  miss  the  sound 
Of  thy  light  step  amid  the  flowers  around ; 
And  thy  soft  breathing  hymn  at  twilight's  close, 
And  thy  '  Good-night'  at  parting  for  repose." 

MADELINE. 


HHHE  eventful  day  at  length  arrived,  and  opened  on 
-**  Marie  with  an  anxious  and  sorrowful  heart.  M. 
Civalle  arrived  soon  after  breakfast  in  a  carriage,  and 
requested  them  to  be  on  board  at  ten  o'clock.  The 
baggage  was  packed,  and  in  the  hall — every  thing 
was  confusion.  Colonel  Ormond  could  not  read  his 
morning  paper ;  his  cigar  was  neglected.  He  arose, 
and  sat  down  again ;  he  paced  the  hall,  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  then  seated  himself.  Marie  was  at  his  side, 
asking  a  thousand  questions,  and  attending  to  all  those 
little  wants  for  the  children  which  only  a  mother 
knows  how  to  care  for. 

Dr.  Grant  was  often  coming  into  the  breakfast-room, 
vowing  that  something  would  be  forgotten ;  while 
Louis  was  constantly  bringing  in  an  accession  of  arti 
cles,  which  he  declared  would  be  needed  for  the 
voyage. 

Old  Sylvia  hopped  about,  trying  to  arrange  matters, 
all  the  time  making  them  worse,  and  creating  more 
disorder ;  when  the  car  came  lumbering  up  for  the 
baggage.  ®*'u 


124  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Breakfast  was  earlier  than  usual,  and  dispatched  in 
silence ;  for  heavy  and  sad,  were  the  hearts  which  that 
morning  were  clustered  around  the  board. 

Marie  retired  to  her  own  room  with  the  girls ;  and 
there,  with  one  on  each  side,  did  she  kneel  down,  and 
pour  forth  her  full  soul  to  God.  Earnestly  she  be 
sought  him  to  extend  over  her  unprotected  lambs  his 
mighty  arm. 

Oh !  who  can  feel  as  a  mother  feels  ?  Whose  heart, 
pure  and  devoted,  is  so  forgetful  of  self  as  a  mother's  ? 
Her  thoughts,  her  ideas,  her  actions,  are  all  for  her 
offspring. 

Marie  knelt,  and,  in  agony  of  soul,  asked  the 
blessing  of  God.  Softly  she  called  upon  all  the  holy 
saints  and  angels  to  watch  and  protect,  and,  in  the 
hour  of  danger,  to  be  nigh  them.  Ere  she  arose,  she 
heard  Colonel  Ormond  below,  asking  for  her.  She 
added  a  few  more  words  of  advice. 

"Zoe,"  she  said,  "you  are  the  elder:  remember, 
now,  that  you  are,  though  young,  to  supply  my  place 
to  Estelle  in  many  things.  Attend  to  her  wants  ;  and 
do  not  annoy  Madame  Civalle.  Be  kind  to  each  other. 
You  are  going  many  weary  miles  from  your  mother  ; 
do  not  forget  her ;  and  remember,  children,  your 
Father  in  heaven !  Every  night,  either  in  calm  or 
storm,  remember,  never  to  lay  your  heads  down  on 
your  pillow,  until  you  have  asked  His  blessing.  He 
will  watch  over  you,  and  make  you  good  and  happy, 
my  children."  Much  more  to  the  same  effect  did  she 
say.  If,  the  reader  happen  to  be  a  mother,  she  will 
understand  the  feelings  of  Marie,  upon  thus  surren 
dering  her  jewels.  She  will  appreciate  all  the  feelings 
of  a  mother's  heart  and  a  mother's  sorrow. 

The  sound  of 'wheels  at  the  door  informed  them 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  125 

that  the  moment  had  arrived.  Marie  now  entered  the 
parlor  with  Zoe  and  Estelle,  all  ready  for  traveling ; 
and  Colonel  Ormond  came  in  at  another  door.  Dr. 
Grant  was  sitting  on  the  sofa  with  Louis,  in  a  sorrow 
ful  mood,  for  he  had  no  children  of  his  own,  and  he 
felt  all  the  tender  and  sincere  feeling  of  a  parent  for 
these.  Old  Sylvia  was  behind  the  door,  crying  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  Colonel  Ormond  happened  to 
look  at  her,  and  she  appeared  so  earnest  in  her  lament 
ations  that  he  could  not  refrain  from  smiling. 

"  Sylvia,"  he  said,  "  I  have  an  idea  of  sending  you 
off  with  the  children.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

Sylvia  nervously  stepped  out  from  behind  the  door, 
and  after  wiping  her  eyes  many  times,  placed  her  arms 
akimbo,  and  replied,  "  Master,  I  knows  very  well  that 
I  ain't  nothin'  but  a  nigger,  and  it  can't  be  'spected 
that  I  will  tell  the  truth  ;  but  I  tell  you  what  I  thinks 
of  it.  I  thinks  that  it  is  a  burnin'  shame  for  you  and 
Miss  Marie,  to  go  to  sendin'  them  poor  children  away 
from  home.  I  wish  that  Paris  was  sunk  to  de  bottom 
of  de  Massasip.  De  Lord  knows,  when  I  look  at  dem 
poor  little  tremblin'  things,  what  I  has  nursed  for 
years  in  these  old  skinny  arms,  and  think  that  they 
has  to  be  sent  off  among  strangers — I  had  just  as  lief 
die  1"  and  here  the  faithful  creature  burst  into  tears, 
and  flung  herself  out  of  the  room. 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  of  feeling  and  little  policy  in 
Sylvia,"  said  Dr.  Grant,  laughing  to  hide  a  tear. 

Colonel  Ormond  compressed  his  lips,  but  said  noth 
ing.  Marie  was  at  that  moment  about  to  close  a  small 
trunk  which  had  not  been  carried  in  the  cart ;  it  con 
tained  all  the  fine  laces  and  light  wearing  apparel, 
and  bijouterie  of  the  children.  Ormond  arose.  "  Hold 
Marie  1"  he  said,  and,  going  to  the  mantel,  where  laid 


126  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

a  pair  of  scissors,  lie  seized  them  and  severed  a  large 
lock  of  hair  from  his  head,  threw  it  into  the  trunk, 
saying  in  a  touching  tone,  "  My  children,  remember 
your  father,  and  if  it  should  please  God  for  us  never 
to  meet  again,  let  this  lock  of  hair  remind  you  of  his 
last  wishes.  Eemember  your  virtue,  your  honor,  and 
your  God!" 

He  turned  off  and  left  the  room. 

The  entrance  of  Louis  informed  them  that  the  mo 
ment  had  arrived  in  reality,  and  Colonel  Orrnond  re 
turning,  Marie  arose,  hastily  donned  her  bonnet,  and 
pulled  her  vail  down  over  her  face.  Sylvia  and  a 
Creole  servant-girl  named  Martha  assisted  the  children 
to  arrange  their  bonnets  and  shawls,  and,  as  Dr.  Grant 
left  the  room,  Colonel  Ormond  silently  offered  his  arm 
to  Marie. 

They  entered  the  carriage,  and  were  rolled  down  to 
the  levee.  The  captain  was  standing  at  the  gangway, 
and  by  his  side  the  good-humored  countenance  of 
M.  Civalle  showed  itself,  asking  and  replying  to  ques 
tions  all  in  the  same  breath,  and  making  all  the  usual 
gestures  which  a  Frenchman  alone  is  capable  of. 
When  our  party  entered  the  cabin,  there  were  several 
ladies  and  gentlemen  present  who  were  passengers; 
with  these  they  speedily  formed  an  acquaintance,  and, 
after  the  usual  formalities  had  been  complied  with,  in 
regard  to  stowing  of  baggage  and  selecting  berths, 
they  all  went  on  deck. 

The  ship  had  been  hauled  out  from  the  pier,  and 
was  only  held  by  a  single  line.  It  had  been  arranged 
that  Colonel  Ormond,  Marie,  and  Dr.  Grant  should 
accompany  them  down  to  the  Balize,  and  return  in  a 
tow-boat.  The  passengers  were*  on  the  quarter  and 
poop-deck,  watching  the  sailors  as  they  cleared  the 


THE    CEEOLE    OK  P  HANS.  127 

decks  of  dunnage,  stowing  provisions,  reefing  the  run 
ning  rigging,  and  bending  on  new  sails. 

Painters  were  at  work,  touching  up  stains  and 
bruises,  and  boys  polishing  the  brass  capstan  head, 
binnacle,  and  stanchions  at  the  hatch  and  gangway. 
The  mates  were  busy  in  seeing  every  thing  snug ; 
stewards  in  a  hurry,  getting  in  their  wines,  and  pre 
paring  for  their  guests ;  and  a  peep  into  their  well' 
arranged  pantries,  at  the  rows  of  bottles  of  wines, 
sauces  and  confections,  promised  well  for  creature 
comforts  during  the  voyage. 

M.  Civalle  had  a  number  of  suspicious-looking  little 
bottles  to  stow  away,  while  his  wife,  a  pretty  little 
animated  brunette  of  some  twenty -five  years,  remained 
behind  on  the  poop-deck,  which  I  shall  take  the  liberty, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  non-professional,  to  explain  to  be 
that  portion  of  the  deck  which  is  abaft  the  mizen-mast 
or  after-portion  of  the  ship,  and  forms  the  roof  of  the 
cabin,  raised  above  the  other  portion  of  the  deck. 

Marie  sat  apart  with  her  children,  and  conversed 
with  them  in  a  low  and  earnest  manner. 

It  was  past  noon  when  the  tow-boat  "  Lion"  came 
alongside ;  she  had  in  tow  a  Liverpool  ship ;  she 
stopped,  the  "  Jeanne  d'Arc"  was  dropped  down  on 
her  larboard  quarter,  the  line  which  held  her  to  the 
levee  was  loosened,  and  she  had  in  another  moment 
cast  off  all  ties  which  held  her  to  America.  The  voy 
age  was  begun,  she  was  passing  down  to  her  ocean 
home,  whose  white-crested  waves  and  tossing  winds 
longed  to  embrace  her.~  Night  came,  and  with  it  mil 
lions  of  stars  reflected  in  the  glassy  bosom  of  the  river. 
The  passengers  were  all  gathered  in  groups  on  the 
deck,  over  which  there  had  been  an  awning  rigged,  to 
protect  them  from  the  night  air ;  some  were  sitting  soli- 


128  THE    CBEOLE    OBPHANS. 

tary  and  alone,  with  heaving  breast  and  a  watery  eye, 
thinking  on  home  and  friends  left  behind  ;  some  were 
conversing  in  a  joyous  tone,  and  others  were  silent, 
but  the  dark  wing  of  melancholy  hung  over  them  as 
they  sat  and  gazed  into  the  deep  water  over  which 
they  were  gliding.  The  croaking  of  myriads  of  frogs, 
the  solemn  and  wild  cry  of  the  bittern  from  its  home 
in  the  swamp,  and  the  low  flat  shores  and  long  grass 
lent  a  peculiar  character  to  the  scene. 

Colonel  Ormond  sat  alone  with  Marie,  conversing 
with  the  children,  and  Dr.  Grant  and  M.  Civalle  were 
discussing  with  great  earnestness  the  most  delicate 
points  in  French  cookery. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  tacit  understanding  among 
the  passengers  not  to  retire  until  their  arrival  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  The  air,  although  it  was  late  in 
the  season,  was  soft  and  balmy,  and  a  gentle  breeze 
slightly  waved  the  long  grass  on  shore ;  and  there 
they  sat,  all  enjoying  themselves,  and  waiting  to  get  a 
sight  of  the  great  ocean. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  the  long,  low,  flat  shore 
terminated,  and  beyond  lay,  in  illimitable  expanse,  the 
great  ocean.  The  town  was  passed,  and  it  was  not 
long  ere  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  mingled  with 
the  clear  blue  of  the  Gulf.  Here  the  anchor  was  let 
go,  and  the  "  Lion"  stretched  out  to  sea,  to  look  for 
an  inbound  vessel.  A  pilot  came  on  board,  and  took 
command  of  the  ship,  which  gradually  worked  her 
way  over  the  bar,  and  came  into  deep  water.  Colonel 
Ormond  and  Marie  remained  on  the  ship,  and  until  a 
long  black  line  of  smoke>was  seen  on  the  horizon  they 
spent  the  fleeting  moments  with  their  children. 

The  tow-boat,  as  agreed  upon  in  the  morning,  grad 
ually  neared  and  slackened  her  steam.  Then  Marie's 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  129 

breath  came  thick ;  and  a  thousand  feelings  resolved 
themselves  into  a  single  moment  of  time;  the  last 
parting  had  come.  She  nerved  herself  up  to  a  final 
effort ;  and  as  the  word  was  given,  "  All  aboard  I" 
she  clasped  her  children — deep  and  passionate  was  the 
embrace — powerful  the  storm  of  sorrow  which  was 
pent-up  in  her  bosom.  The  captain  seized  his  trum 
pet  ;  the  mates  echoed  his  orders ;  and  crowding  aft, 
the  men  rushed  with  the  capstan  bars  ;  the  messenger 
and  swifter  were  already  around  it ;  the  word  was 
given,  and  away  they  flew;  the  anchor  was  catted; 
the  men  ran  aloft ;  the  sails  were  loosened,  and  Marie 
was  carried  on  board  the  steamer  half-fainting ;  while 
the  gallant  ship,  as  she  felt  the  breeze,  leaned  over  to 
the  impetus,  and  commenced  her  voyage  over  the 
blue  waters.  Header — perhaps  you  are  a  parent — 
it  may  be  that  you  have  hung  over  the  sick  couch 
of  a  dear  cherub,  and  gazed  with  anxious  heart 
at  its  sunken  cheeks.  You  have  felt  the  life-blood 
leaping  like  lightning  in  its  frail  frame ;  and  marked 
the  hectic  flush — the  glistening  eye — and  felt  the  hot 
breath  as  it  issued  from  that  little  fever-parched  mouth ; 
and  you  hush  your  breath,  and  place  your  cheek  close  to 
the  little  sufferer ;  while  the  flesh  shrinks  in  horror,  and 
the  soul  is  sick  with  agony  lest  it  be  dead  ! — when 
it  murmurs  in  its  delirium,  "Mother!" — when  the 
cricket's  chirp,  or  the  rustling  of  the  leaf  against  the 
window  pane,  makes  you  start,  you  scarce  know 
why ;  and  when  its  weak  and  helpless  eyes  beseech 
you  for  the  assisiance  you  "  know  you  can  not  give." 
You  who  have  felt  this,  who  have  known  a  parent's 
agony,  the  concentrated  bitterness  of  that  moment,  can 
feel  for  Marie.  She  turned  and  looked  toward  the 
ship.  A  cloud  of  canvas  was  piled  upon  her  yards, 

6* 


130  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

The  steamer  was  rushing  over  the  water,  and  the  dis 
tance  gradually  increasing  between  them.  Upon  the 
deck  they  stood ;  while  hands  waved  handkerchiefs, 
and  fond  lips  sent  kisses  on  the  air ;  but  Marie  saw 
nothing,  the  tears  dimmed  her  vision ;  and  when  the 
party  became  indistinct,  her  head  fell  on  the  bosom  of 
Colonel  Ormond,  and  she  wept  deeply  and  passion 
ately  !  He  sat  there,  gazing  on  the  now  fast  receding 
vessel.  A  gloom  was  on  his  brow,  and  a  sorrow  on 
his  heart. 

"  Go,  in  thy  glory,  o'er  the  ancient  sea, 

Take  with  thee,  gentle  winds,  thy  sails  to  swell; 
Sunshine  and  joy  upon  thy  streamers  be, 
Fare  thee  well,  bark,  farewell!" 

When  they  arrived  in  New  Orleans,  they  found  Tal- 
bot ;  he  had  come  down  according  to  the  request  of 
Colonel  Ormond,  who  was  to  procure  him  a  situation 
in  some  mercantile  house  ;  which  promise  he  perform 
ed  in  the  morning. 

Marie  retired  early,  and  spent  the  night  in  tears. 
Ah !  and  those  tears !  bitter,  deep,  despairing,  such  as 
sear  the  eye-balls  and  melt  the  heart  with  agony. 
Upon  their  arrival  in  the  city,  Colonel  Ormond  and 
the  doctor  walked  up  town.  In  passing  a  hotel,  they 
were  cheered  by  the  sound  of  a  well-known  voice ; 
and  Mr.  Herndon  stood  before  them.  "  Ah,  Ormond, 
too  late !"  he  said.  "I  learned  that  you  have  parted 
from  your  children.  I  rode  over  to  your  place,  and 
thinking  to  find  you  ready  to  start,  found  you  gone ; 
but  in  your  place,  your  relative.  I  came  down  with 
him  as  I  had  business,  hoping  I  would  get  a  sight  of 
you  all  before  you  left." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  were  disappointed,  Herndon ;  they 
would  have  been  pleased." 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  131 

"How  does  Marie  take  it?" 

"  Badly,  badly ;  but  grief  wears  off,  come ;  Grant 
and  myself  strolled  up  here ;  we  are  just  going  to 
return." 

The  three  proceeded  again  down  town ;  indulging 
as  they  went  in  that  pleasant  chat  common  to  near 
and  dear  friends. 

Talbot  had  retired,  Dr.  Grant  and  Mr.  Herndon  had 
been  sitting  out  on  the  door-step  smoking  (Ormond 
having  stolen  up  stairs  to  cheer  Marie),  and  the  subject 
of  their  conversation  was  upon  the  situation  of  their 
friend  and  Marie ;  and  their  determination  was  to  urge 
with  all  their  power  his  immediate  and  prompt  action 
in  the  matter,  and  have  it  consummated  at  once. 
Colonel  Ormond  came  down  and  joined  them. 

"  Ormond,  I  am  going  to  return  to-morrow,  and 
when  I  meet  you  again,  I  wish  you  to  say,  '  Herndon, 
I  have  relieved  myself  from  an  odium,  and  done  what 
my  friends  advised.' " 

"My  dear  friend,"  replied  Ormond  ;  "I  feel  grate 
ful  for  your  sincere  disinterestedness,  and  appreciate 
your  friendship.  I  have  already  to-day  called  on  a 
legal  friend,  and  made  an  appointment  for  ten  to-mor 
row,  when  I  will  at  once  take  preliminary  steps  to 
have  this  long-deferred  matter  closed." 

"  This  is  as  it  should  be,  Ormond,"  he  answered, 
rising;  "and  no  man  can  feel  more  gratified  to  see 
you  disenthrall  yourself  from  this  procrastination." 

"  There  are  certain  preliminary  steps  to  be  taken," 
said  Dr.  Grant,  "  which  subjects  it  to  delay." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  I  am  informed  that  a  notice  has  to  be  published 
forty  days ;  and  then  a  petition  is  presented  to  the 
Parish  Judge ;  and  if  the  person  to  be  emancipated  is 


132  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

not. above  the  age  of  thirty,  it  has  to  go  before  the 
Police  Jury  first." 

"  Yes,  I  have  read  the  same  in  the  Civil  Code  ;  but 
it  is  mortifying  to  be  subjected  to  this  humiliation." 

"^Tet,  Ormond,  can  you  with  honor  retract?  Ee- 
mernber  the  great  interests  at  stake," 

"  True ;  yet  the  notoriety,  the  shame  to  have  my 
domestic  affairs  dragged  before  a  low  crowd." 

"  This  sensitive  feeling  is  natural.  Yet,  Ormond, 
if  it  is  not  done,  there 'is  a  something  which  will  surely 
follow." 

"It  appears  to  me,  that  I  would  rather  risk  this 
something  after  my  death,  than  to  debase  those  whom 
only  I  live  for." 

"  You  are  placed  in  a  very  unhappy  situation,  and 
I  see  but  one  way  to  escape  from  it,"  said  the  doctor; 
"  and  that  is  npt  to  regard  the  opinion  of  the  world, 
and  go  to  work  at  once." 

"  Yes ;  and  to-morrow  I  will  do  so.  I  will  brave 
the  opinion  of  the  public,  and  place  my  children,  and 
the  mother  of  my  children,  in  a  position  of  security 
and  independence." 

"  Spoken  like  a  man!"  exclaimed  Herndon ;  "  and 
now,  let 's  to  bed  and  sleep  upon  it." 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  day,  Colonel  Ormond  sought 
the  office  of  his  attorney.  He  was  one  of  those  pure, 
honorable  men  who  are  above  the  chicanery  of  the 
law,  and  scorn  to  adopt  mean,  debasing  positions 
to  secure  a  client,  and  which  are,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
so  common  among  the  members  of  the  profession.  He 
listened  attentively  to  Ormond,  and  felt  deeply  for  his 
situation,  for  he  had  known  him  well  a  number  of 
years.  At  length  Ormond  stammered  through  his 
painful  recital. 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  133 

"  Well,  Colonel,  I  do  not  see  that  the  case  is  so  dif 
ficult.  I  have  thought  of.  a  method  by  which  all  the 
disagreeable  publicity  of  the  affair  may  be  avoided." 

"Then,  for  God's  sake,  sir,"  exclaimed  Orniond, 
"let  me  know  it.  I  will  embrace  any  thing." 

"  You  are  aware  that  the  thing  can  not  be  carried 
out  in  this  State." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     Why  ?     How  ?" 

"  Simply  because  there  is  a  law  which,  in  effect  pro 
hibits  the  manumission  of  persons,  unless  they  are 
natives  of  the  State." 

"  Then,  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  go  to  another  State, 
where  there  is  no  prohibition." 

Ormond  knit  his  brows,  and  sat  in  silent  thought  for 
sometime;  at  length  he  arose,  and  observed.  "Mr. 
Bland,  I  have  an  idea ;  I  will  see  you  again,"  and  shook 
his  hand.  At  the  door  of  his  dwelling,  he  met  Dr. 
Grant ;  he  motioned  to  him  to  walk  with  him,  and  de 
tailed  the  whole  conversation. 

"  Now,  then,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  his  eyes  spark 
ling  with  pleasure,  "I  have  it." 

"Proceed!" 

"  You  know  that  the  health  of  my  wife  has  been 
bad  for  some  time;  that  symptoms  of  pulmonary 
disease  are  evident,  and  that  I  have  been  meditating  a 
trip  to  Cuba,  or  some  more  genial  climate?" 

"  Yes,  but  what  connection — " 

"  Stay ! — I  am  willing  to  take  that  trip  now ;  I  am 
willing  to  go  with  you  to  some  one  of  the  West  Indies, 
where  my  wife's  health  will  be  restored ;  and  you  can 
accomplish  your  object  at  once." 

."Doctor I"  warmly  exclaimed  Ormond,  "1  know 


134:  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

and  appreciate  your  feelings  and  friendship,  but  this 
is  more  than  I  could  ask." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Ormond !  do  you  not  see  that  I  will 
be  delighted  with  the  trip?  suppose  the  health  of  my 
wife  is  benefited,  could  I  ask  more  happiness  ?  ISTo, 
go  and  see  Herndon,  for  though  he  is  a  devil  when 
excited,  his  judgment  is  cool  and  opinion  soimd." 

"I  shall  be  but  too  happy  then  to  take  you  at  your 
word." 

uThen,  see  Marie!  cheer  her  heart,  and  let  us  get 
ready."  Ormond  took  him  by  the  hand  and  pressed 
it  warmly,  while  the  tremulousness  of  his  voice  as 
he  thanked  him,  told  him  how  deeply  he  felt. 

They  turned  and  walked  back.  Ormond's  step  was 
light  and  buoyant,  and  freer  from  care  than  it  had 
been  for  many  a  day,  for  he  now  saw  a  way  by  which 
he  could  perform  a  duty  long  delayed,  and  render 
himself  happy. 

Early  in  the  morning,  Colonel  Ormond  had  a  long 
and  private  conversation  with  Mr.  Bland,  his  attorney, 
and  had  declined  saying  any  thing  to  Marie  on  the 
subject,  until  he  returned.  He  found  her  in  the  par 
lor  where  she  had  been  awaiting  his  return.  She  was 
dressed  in  black,  a  color  which  becomes  all  persons  of 
her  complexion,  and  she  with  her  splendid  figure, 
showed  to  peculiar  advantage.  Her  long  dark  hair 
was  braided  across  her  spotless  forehead,  while  her 
cheeks  had  a  slight  ripe  tinge  of  carnation,  such  as 
the  peach  obtains  by  exposure  to  the  sun's  rays. 

He  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look  more  beauti 
ful  as  he  drew  her  to  his  bosom. 

"Marie,  my  love,"  he  said,  "I  have  seldom  ever 
felt  in  better  heart  than  this  morning.  Do  you  know 
that  I  have  at  length  found  a  solution  to  this  terrible 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  135 

problem  which  lias  so  often  formed  the  subject  of  con 
versation  between  us  ?" 

"  "  Do  you  mean  the  matter  in  regard  to  myself  and 
our  —  our  children?"  and  here  her  voice  faltered, 
as  she  gazed  up  to  him  inquiringly,  and  the  tears 
started  to  her  eyes  at  the  mention  of  those  dear  ones, 
who  were  now  far  away  among  strangers,  upon  the 
blue  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 

"Ay,  Marie!  it  is  that;  I  think  it  is  now  set  at 
rest." 

"In  what  manner,  Ormond?" 

"  Why,  by  a  suggestion  of  Mr.  Eland's,  which  has 
marked  out  a  course  for  me  to  pursue." 

"  What  is  it?  Mr.  Bland  is  a  good-man,  and  I  am 
sure  his  advice  must  be  so." 

"  Simply  to  leave  the  State  to  have  the  act  of  eman 
cipation  passed ;  as  there  are  many  disagreeable  things 
connected  with  the  proceeding  here,  which  will  not 
be  necessary  in  another  place.  Yet  stay  !  listen !  he 
advises  me  to  go  to  one  of  the  West  India  islands." 

" The  West  Indies?" 

"Yes!  and  as  soon  as  I  mentioned  it,  Dr.  Grant 
nobly  offered  to  accompany  us,  and  as  his  wife  is  in 
delicate  health,  to  make  her  your  companion." 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  good,  too  kind  !"  she  fervently  said, 
while  a  holy  expression  of  gratitude  overspread  her 
features. 

After  some  further  conversation  upon  the  subject, 
she  remarked : 

"  Ormond,  I  have  often  thought  of  the  days  of  my 
childhood,  and  a  desire  has  lurked  in  my  bosom  to 
revisit  those  spots  where  I  was  so  happy,  and  yet 
so  miserable.  Could  this  matter  be  arranged  ia  Mar 
tinique  ?  Oh !  I  see  now  those  tall  hills  and  waving 


136  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

cocoa- trees,  the  bright  sun,  and  the  gorgeous  flowers, 
of  my  native  isle ;  and  methinks  if  I  visit  it  under 
such  auspices  as  the  present,  every  thing  will  be  more 
bright,  and  more  beautiful  than  even  in  my  child 
hood's  dream." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  own  one,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  upon 
her  with  rapture,  "yes,  we  will  go  to  Martinique ;  it 
is  a  fitting  place  for  this  ceremony,  and  there  I  can, 
and  will  claim  you  as  an  honored  wife,  before  the 
world." 

" Bless  you,  Charles!  bless  you  for  this!  for  so 
readily  yielding  to  this  whim  of  mine,  and  for  it 
know  that  I  love  you,  oh,  so  dearly!"  And  she  hid 
her  face  in  his  bosom. 

"  You  deserve  it  Marie,"  cried  Ormond,  returning 
her  caresses,  "  it  is  the  most  prudent  and  most  pleasant 
course."  The  opening  of  the  hall-door  now  inter 
rupted  the  conversation,  and  they  were  speedily  en 
gaged  with  Dr.  Grant,  to  whom  they  communicated 
the  idea.  He  was  delighted  with  it,  and  thus  passed 
the  time  till  dinner. 

"Mr.  Talbot,"  said  Colonel  Ormond,  at  dinner,  "we 
do  not  intend  returning  to  the  plantation  to  remain,  for 
a  few  weeks  ;  the  health  of  the  doctor's  wife  is  failing, 
and  he  wishes  us  to  accompany  him  on  a  short  trip, 
thinking  it  may  restore  her ;  and  as  your  engagement 
has  not  commenced  in  the  city,  I  will  have  to  engage 
you  myself.  "What  do  you  say  to  it  ?" 

"  Ah,  colonel,"  he  answered,  with  a  smirk,  "  you  are 
jesting  with  me,  you  well  know  that  if  my  poor  serv 
ices  can  avail  you  any  thing,  you  are  heartily  wel 
come  to  them." 

"Bu4  I  am  serious,  Mr.  Talbot ;  I  have  a  great  deal 
of  correspondence  which  requires  my  attention :  now, 


THE    CBEOLE    ORPHANS.  137 

what  I  propose  is,  for  you  until  our  return,  to  act  as 
my  private  secretary." 

"  With  pleasure,  colonel,  I  will." 

"Your  services  shall  not  go  unrewarded,  Mr.  Tal- 
bot.  I  have  sugar  to  ship,,  and  that  will  also  be  your 
business." 

"  Any  thing,  sir,  I  will  attend  to." 

"  Well,,  then,  that  is  settled,  and  you  had  best  return 
with  us." 

After  dinner  he  approached  Talbot.  "Well,  Mr. 
Talbot,  as  our  engagement  now  commences,  and  money 
may  not  be  over  plenty,  here  is  a  check  for  a  small 
sum  which  you  may  find  of  use  during  my  absence ;" 
and  here  he  held  out  a  paper.  Talbot  drew  back,  pre 
tending  great  delicacy. 

"  Tut,  tut,  man,  take  it ;  as  the  world  goes  we  must 
be  supplied  with  the  current  coin ;  none  of  this  mod 
esty — take  it."  Talbot,  apparently  with  great  reluct 
ance,  accepted  it,  after  offering  many  thanks  ;  but  as 
the  reader  knows,  money  was  his  god,  his  heart  beat 
fast,  and  his  breath  grew  thick  at  the  offering. 

It  was  a  happy  party  that  evening,  which  assembled 
around  the  fireside  of  Colonel  Ormond.  Marie  and 
Dr.  Grant  sat  down  to  a  game  of  chess ;  while  Mr. 
Herndon,  who  had  not  left  the  city,  and  Colonel 
Ormond,  assisted  by  Talb@t,  enjoyed  cigars  and  con 
versation. 

The  next  evening  saw  them  all  on  a  steamer,  wend 
ing  their  way  homeward. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


"  The  sky  was  piled  with  golden  clouds, 

The  winds  were  all  asleep ; 
There  was  no  noise,  save  only  this, 
The  breathing  of  the  deep." 


pOLOlSTEL  OEMOND  now  set  to  work  to  arrange  his 
^  matters,  preparatory  to  his  departure.  Mr.  Hern- 
don  promised  to  often  ride  over  and  direct  the  over 
seer,  if  the  return  should  be  delayed,  and  Talbot  was 
to  attend  to  the  correspondence  ;  but  not  a  word  did 
they  breathe  to  him  of  the  place  of  their  destination, 
or  of  its  object. 

A  high-churchman  in  the  city  had  promised  to  pro 
cure  letters  to  the  Prefet  Apostolique,  or  head  of  the 
Church  in  the  island. 

"When  all  these  little  matters  had  been  attended  to, 
he  sat  down  calmly  to  await  the  pleasure  of  Marie  and 
Mrs.  Grant,  who,  as  all  ladies  have^had  many  little 
notions  of  their  own  to  arrange,  which  men  do  not 
know  any  thing  about.  They  had  often  met  before, 
but  now  they  saw  much  of  each  other ;  and  many  a 
trip  to  town  was  made  by  old  Pierre,  who  returned 
with  packages  of  finery  for  them. 

Mrs.  Caroline  Grant  had  ever  esteemed  Marie,  but 
the  questionable  manner  in  which  she  lived,  prevented 
her  from  bestowing  too  much  attention  upon  her  ;  now 
she  had  really  formed  an  affection  for  her,  and,  under 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  139 

existing  circumstances,  threw  off  all  reserve,  and  be 
came  her  constant  friend.  •  ,i': 

At  length  they  signified  to  Colonel  Ormond,  that  if 
he  pleased,  he  was  at  liberty  to  select  a  vessel  for  the 
voyage.  This  he  promptly  did,  by  writing  to  his  mer 
chants,  begging  them  to  inform  him  of  any  West 
India  vessels  on  the  point  of  sailing. 

Not  many  days  after  this,  Colonel  Ormond  and 
Marie,  with  Dr.  Grant  and  his  wife,  were  standing  on 
the  river-bank,  and  a  steamer  was  gradually  nearing 
the  shore.  Mr.  Herndon  and  Talbot  were  their  com 
panions,  with  the  overseer.  A  feeling  adieu  was 
passed  between  the  voyageurs  and  Mr.  Herndon. 
Talbot  came  forward.  Colonel  Ormond  placed  in  his 
hand  another  check,  saying,  "  Mr.  Talbot,  take  this, 
I  may  be  absent  longer  than  I  anticipate,  and  you 
may  need  it." 

He  drew  back. 

"  Nay,  nay,  sir,  consider  it  as  a  mere  advance  on 
your  wages ;  take  it !" 

He  hesitated,  but,  as  Ormond  thrust  it  in  his  hand, 
received  it  with  becoming  modesty.  Talbot  really 
almost  felt  grateful  to  his  generous  benefactor,  and  it 
would  have  seemed  to  an  observer,  that  his  heart  was 
touched,  as  his  eyes  looked  watery ;  but  this  was  de 
light.  At  any  rate,  he  was  a  little  warmed  ;  and,  as 
Marie  came  up,  and  gave  him  her  hand,  he  actually 
squeezed  out  a  small  tear ;  but  it  cost  him  an  effort'. 

A  week  passed  away,  and  our  party  stepped  on 
board  a  beautiful  brig,  called  the  "Diadem,"  bound 
for  Porto  Eico.  There  was  no  vessel  going  direct  to 
Martinique. 

As  they  passed  along  the  river,  and  gazed  at  the 
princely  plantations  on  the  bank,  Marie  thought  of 


140  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

the  last  time  she  had  passed  them,  of  the  difference  in 
her  situation  and  her  feelings.  And  then  Ormond  was 
so  gay,  and  the  Doctor  so  amusing,  and  her  friend 
Caroline  so  delightful,  so  kind  and  attentive.  She  felt 
a  freedom,  her  bosom  was  light  with  joy ;  she  felt  a 
happiness  she  had  seldom  ever  felt  before,  and  a  glad 
ness  of  heart,  which  was  foreign  to  any  thing  sad  or 
mournful.  She  was  on  an  errand  of  happiness,  would 
soon  approach  these  shores  an  honored  and  a  happy 
wife,  with  the  black  stain  of  slavery  removed  from 
her  soul.  They  reached  the  Balize,  and  at  length 
entered  on  the  broad  waste  of  waters.  The  vessel  they 
had  chosen  was  a  new  one,  and  her  accommodations 
were  excellent.  She  was  about  two  hundred  tuns  bur 
den.  The  deck  was  not  flush,  like  many  vessels  of 
her  class,  but  raised  into  a  cabin  like  a  ship.  A  net 
work  of  rope,  with  iron  stanchions,  surrounded  the 
poop-deck,  where  several  sky -lights  served  for  seats  ; 
and  when  the  wind  was  aft,  or  quartering,  it  afforded 
a  fine  place  for  passengers  to  lounge.  There  were 
some  eight  or  ten  other  passengers.  Among  them  was 
a  timid,  fat  old  gentleman,  from  Boston,  going  to  the 
"West  Indies  on  a  speculation ;  a  grave  old  Don,  who 
resided  in  Matanzas  ;  and  three  young  ladies,  who  had 
been  to  school  in  Kentucky,  and,  under  the  protection 
of  the  Don,  were  going  home.  There  were  also  two 
old  women,  who  were  piously  inclined,  who  rolled  up 
their  eyes,  and  quoted  Scripture  frequently ;  they  were 
going  out  as  missionaries  somewhere  to  the  Cannibal 
Islands.  These,  and  a  young  and  agreeable  Creole 
gentleman,  formed  the  party.  All  seemed  desirous  that 
their  short  connection  should  be  as  pleasant  as  pos* 
sible ;  and  each  one  appeared  to  be  doing  something 
agreeable. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  141 

Even  Dr.  Grant  forgot  to  terrify  the  timid  old  mer 
chant  and  the  old  women  with  stories  about  pirates 
and  cut-throats,  raw-head  and  bloody  bones,  walking 
the  plank,  and  such,  like  concatenation  of  horrors,  at 
which  the  captain  would  smile,  then  look  grave,  and 
give  his  assent. 

The  captain  was  a  jolly  old  fellow,  strict  in  his  dis 
cipline,  and  attentive  to  his  duty.  He  was  agreeable 
to  his  passengers,  and  exercised  a  fatherly  privilege 
with  his  younger  guests.  He  was  well-stocked  with 
tales  of  the  sea,  and  often  kept  a  crowd  half  a  night 
breathless,  listening  to  his  yarns  of  adventure  among 
the  islands.  But  it  was  in  a  clear  and  cloudless  night, 
when  the  bright  stars  were  seen,  imaged  out  in  the 
transparent  sea,  like  golden  drops,  glowing  and  burn 
ing  in  their  bed  of  blue  and  silver — then  it  was,  with  a 
quarter  breeze,  and  the  vessel  gliding  without  much 
motion  over  the  water — then  it  was,  we  say,  that  the 
captain  would  uncoil  the  strands  of  his  memory,  over 
haul  his  log,  and  sit  for  hours  puffing  his  cheroot, 
making  his  hearers  gather  nearer  to  each  other,  and 
the  more  timid  look  over  their  shoulders.  He  had 
been  taken  by  pirates,  carried  to  a  lonely  island,  and, 
after  seeing  half  his  companions  murdered,  escaped  in 
company  with  two  others,  in  an  open  boat,  and  had 
been  picked  up  five  days  afterward,  by  a  vessel  bound 
to  Bordeaux.  He  had  cruised  among  the  islands 
before  the  introduction  of  steam,  and  at  a  time  when 
piracy  was  rife  ;  and  had  many  a  brush  with  them  on 
the  main  land. 

It  was  such  a  night  as  we  have  described,  with  the 
exception  that  a  few  light  fleecy  clouds  floated  about, 
soft  and  downy  ;  or  sailed  along  slowly,  and  gradually 
melted  'into  each  other ;  or  extended  into  thin  wavy 


142  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

lines,  which,  at  length  dissolved  themselves  into  a  mel 
low,  misty,  silver  haze,  like  the  harmonious  blending 
of  two  pure  and  similar  minds. 

The  captain  was  the  center  of  a  group,  the  mainsail 
hung  over  the  quarter,  and  the  passengers  were  loung 
ing  in  different  attitudes ;  some  occupied  the  skylights, 
while  other  leaned  against  the  network  of  rope.  The 
boom  being  over  the  water,  left  a  clear  space  for  the 
listeners,  who  were  clustered  around  the  captain. 

The  passengers  had  become  well  acquainted,  and 
mutually  pleased. 

Ormond  and  Dr.  Grant  had  been  amused  from  time 
to  time  at  the  eagerness  with  which  the  party  seemed 
to  listen  to  any  thing  which  savored  of  the  marvel 
ous  and  terrible ;  even  Mrs.  Grant  and  Marie  had 
caught  the  infection,  and  sat  hand  in  hand,  listening 
in  breathless  attention. 

"Now,  captain,"  observed  one  of  the  young  ladies, 
"  come,  tell  us  a  good  story ;  you  know  you  promised 
us  at  dinner  that  you  would,  if  I  would  tell  how  many 
lovers  I  had." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  child,  so  I  did,"  replied  he. 

""Well,  now,  captain,  tell  us  a  real  pirate  story," 
chimed  in  another. 

"  Yery  well;  what  shall  it  be,  young  ladies?" 

"  Oh !  a  real  pirate  story ;  a  real  Blackboard  story." 

"Very  good,"  he  replied,  lighting  another  cigar, 
while  he  threw  the  old  stump  to  leeward. 

"  A  pirate  story !  Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  I  was 
kept  in  prison  by  the  Chinese  pirates,  and  fed  on 
pickled  bull  puppies,  until  every  time  I  tried  to  talk  I 
barked?  Oh!  no,  no.  Well,  young  ladies,  I  will 
tell  you  a  little  truth  to-night." 

"  Oh !  that 's  it,  captain,  give  us  a  good  one." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  143 

"It  was  many  years  ago  (I  was  younger  than  I  am 
now,  and  there  were  no  frosty  hairs  among  my  locks) 
that  I  was  second  mate  on  a  fine  new  brig  which  sailed 
from  New  York  with  a  cargo  of  merchandise  for  the 
Guiana  market ;  she  was  called  the  '  Sea  Foam.'     Oh ! 
but  she  was  a  beauty !  and  could  make  the  sea-foam 
fly  higher  than  any  thing  on  the  water.     She  was  a 
jewel,  and  could  make  a  nine-knot  breeze  out  of  a  six, 
with  nothing  but  her  jibs  and  topsails.     Every  one 
who  saw  her  loved  her.     We  had  been  out  a  few 
weeks,  had  cleared  the  Gulf  Stream,  run  down  the 
Caribbees,  and  were  heading  toward  our  port,  when 
we  had  a  storm  which  lasted  a  week.     It  was  latitude 
15  deg.  north.     We  ran  under  double-reefed  topsails 
all  the  time,  and  kept  double  watch,  with  lanterns  at 
our  peak  every  night.     At  last  the  storm  died  away, 
and  it  sunk  into  a  dead  calm.     We  had  nothing  to  do 
then  but  get  coral  and  fish,  and  we  could  do  that  easily 
enough,  as  we  only  had  five  fathoms  of  water,  and 
could  see  every  thing  clearly  at  the  bottom.     Well, 
our  captain  (and  he  was  a  most  terrible  hand  to  swear) 
he  cursed  the  breeze  which  would  come  up  in  the 
evening,  ruffle  the  water,  and  die  away ;  he  cursed  the 
storm,  and  the  water,  and  every  thing  not  over  six 
inches  high ;  but  as  strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  did  not 
do  a  bit  of  good,  for  the  calm  continued.     We  had  a 
number  of  passengers  on  board ;  among  them  was  a 
noble-looking  Spanish  gentleman  and  his  two  daugh 
ters  ;  bright  and  lovely  creatures  they  were  too,  and 
the  favorites  of  the  whole  crew,  who  every  time  they 
came  on  deck  would  touch  their  hats  to  them  and 
bless  them  for  their  words  of  kindness  to  the  poor 
sailors.     There  were  also  several  English  merchants, 
who  were  going  home ;  and  there  was  a  big  fat  fellow, 


144  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

several  ugly  women,  and  a  sprinkling  of  Yankees.- 
But  the  chief  of  the  passengers  was  a  young  man  of 
dark  features,  and  very  handsome  ;  he  was  about  thirty 
years  old,  not  very  tall,  but  the  most  elegant  man  that 
I  ever  saw,  and  of  a  most  distinguished  air.  His 
form  was  superb,  built  for  strength  and  activity,  yet 
full  of  grace.  His  mustache  gave  a  kind  of  fierceness 
to  his  countenance,  but  when  he  smiled  he  exposed  a 
set  of  the  most  brilliant  teeth  I  ever  saw.  Still  it 
was  not  an  unpleasant  smile ;  it  at  once  attracted  and 
repelled  you,  like  the  charm  of  the  fabled  snake,  and 
it  gave  his  countenance  a  wild  and  singular  expression. 
He  always  wore  -a  suit  of  undress  uniform,  but  no 
metal  button  could  be  seen  at  all.  When  he  first 
came  on  board  he  was  very  reserved,  and  seemed  per 
fectly  indifferent  to  all  the  other  passengers ;  but,  as  ^ 
we  advanced  into  a  lower  latitude,  he  seemed  to  wake 
up.  At  first,  he  always  took  the  starboard  side  of  the 
quarter-deck,  and,  ever  keeping  a  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
would  fold  his  arms  and  walk  for  hours ;  even  at  night 
he  never  slept  as  the  others  did,  but  by  and  by  he 
would  start  up,  and,  seizing  the  spy-glass,  gaze  with  it 
all  around  the  horizon. 

"  Some  of  the  men  said  he  was  afraid,  and  was  look 
ing  for  pirates ;  but  one  or  two  shook  their  heads  and 
said  nothing  but  that  '  He  don't  look  like  a  man  that 
is  afraid  of  any  thing.' 

"  The  captain  used  to  joke  him  often,  and  ask  him 
if  he  was  looking  for  pirates,  or  his  consort ;  for  there 
were  many  pirates  in  the  Caribbean  Sea  in  those  days, 
even  coming  in  sight  of  cruisers  and  then  getting 
away.  The  young  man  would  smile,  show  his  teeth, 
and  say,  'Captain,  before  we  part  we  may  meet  one, 
and  then  we  will  see  who  is  most  afraid,  you  or  I.' 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  145 

"  When  a  storm  came  on,  and  when  the  waves  burst 
on  our  sides,  and  the  vessel  was  in  danger  of  broach 
ing  to,  the  captain,  as  it  were,  paralyzed  by  fear,  the 
young  man  seized  the  trumpet,  and  holding  on  by  an 
after-shroud,  thundered  out  in  real  seamanlike  terms 
his  orders,  which  electrified  the  whole  crew,  who  flew 
to  execute  them.  When  this  man  stood  there,  trum 
pet  in  hand,  bare-headed,  with  the  wind  howling 
through  the  rigging,  the  vessel  careening  to  the  blast, 
the  green  waves  bursting  over  her,  and  everything  on 
the  verge  of  ruin,  then  it  was  that,  taking  the  command 
of  the  vessel  unasked,  while  the  men  had  deserted 
their  posts,  and  the  passengers  were  crouching  with 
fear,  that  he  looked,  with  his  hair  streaming  out  on 
the  wind,  the  l  Spirit  of  the  Storm ;'  then  it  was,  I 
say,  that  we  saw  he  was  no  lubber,  no  common  man. 
And  when  the  storm  was  over,  and  the  gentle  breeze 
again  wafted  us  pleasantly  on  our  voyage,  he  sunk 
back  into  the  retiring  man  as  before.  But  after  this, 
he  began  to  mingle  more  with  the  passengers,  and 
ultimately  was  the  constant  attendant  of  the  two  young 
ladies.  But  he  seemed  to  have  a  natural  antipathy  to 
the  English  merchants,  and,  notwithstanding  they  tried 
every  means  to  conciliate  him,  and  offered  to  drink 
wine  with  him  at  table,  he  always  refused,  but  in  a 
pleasant,  gentlemanly  manner,  which  could  not  offend 
them.  But  they  could  make  no  kind  of  impression 
on  him.  The  captain,  too,  I  do  believe,  thought  he 
was  the  devil,  and  was  very  careful  not  to  joke  him 
any  more. 

"  About  this  time,  there  was  considerable  trouble  in 
the  British  islands ;  the  Eegistration  Act  had  passed 
which  was  to  deprive  the  planters  of  their  slaves,  and 
convert  their  happy  homes  into  a  ruin.  The  colonists 

7 


146  THE    CEEOLE    OB  P  HANS, 

could  say  nothing ;  they  were  outraged,  and  many  were 
even  trying  to  take  their  slaves  away  to  the  Spanish 
islands,  where  slavery  existed ;  many  were  interrupted 
and  caught  in  the  act,  and  all  the  islands  were  in  a 
state  of  tumult,  and  confusion.  People  were  leaving 
a  ruined  country ;  and  many  poor  planters  we  carried 
over  to  the  United  States,  with  curses  in  their  mouths 
at  this  mistaken  act  of  England,  in  converting  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  countries  in  the  world  into  a 
desert. 

"  In  a  few  days  the  wind  freshened,  and  every  thing 
was  once  more  favorable ;  we  were  beginning  to  think 
of  the  end  of  our  voyage,  when  one  morning  De 
Montreville,  as  he  called  himself,  came  on  deck.  He 
had  in  his  mouth  that  everlasting  cigar.  As  usual,  he 
took  the  spy  glass,  and  laying  it  on  the  bulwark,  took 
a  long  and  steady  gaze.  His  countenance  brightened 
up  ;  he  gave  a  sudden  start,  and  again  looked  for  some 
time.  The  captain  came  up  at  that  moment,  '  Well, 
captain,'  he  quietly  remarked, '  there  is  a  sail ;  take  the 
glass,  and  see  what  you  make  of  her.'  Here  that  pecu 
liar,  but  not  unpleasant  smile  gathered  around  his 
lips.  The  captain  took  the  glass,  and  after  a  long  and 
steady  look  answered,  *  I  can't  make  her  out  Mr.  De 
Montreville ;  she  is  long  and  sharp,  but  shows  ''too 
much  canvas  for  a  merchantman ;  and  her  yards  are 
too  long.  What  do  you  make  of  her  ?' 

"  The  passengers  had  by  this  time  gathered  near,  as 
De  Montreville  prepared  to  reply.  The  same  smile 
played  around  his  mouth,  while  the  white  teeth  added 
to  the  remarkable  expression.  He  looked  around 
among  the  passengers,  'Captain,'  he  answered,  'it  is 
hard  to  say ;  %she  is  too  light  for  a  cruiser,  but  she  is 
not  a  trader.' 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  147 

"  { "Well,  what  in  the  name  of  thunder  is  she  then  ?' 
brusquely  demanded  he. 

"  '  How  should  I  know  ?'  laughed  the  young  man. 

"  '  Well,  she  has  got  a  suspicious  look,'  answered 
the  captain,  using  his  glass. 

"  '  Can  she  be  one  of  those  light  Spanish  vessels, 
which  cruize  around  Cuba  ?' 

"  '  No  no,  she  is  too  lofty,  too  much  like  a  Yankee 
clipper,  but "  added  he,  l  it  may  be  that  crazy  "West 
Indiarnan  the  "  Terror,"  which  has  caused  so  much 
alarm  among  the  English  merchantmen  for  the  past 
year.' 

"  A  light  seemed  to  shoot  from  De  Montreville's  eyes 
as  the  captain  spoke  these  words ;  and  he  turned  say 
ing,  l  What  do  you  refer  to,  captain  ?  you  are  aware 
that  I  am  a  stranger  in  these  waters,  what  vessel  is  it, 
called  the  "Terror?"' 

"  '  Why,  you  must  know,'  replied  the  old  seaman,  as 
he  rolled  his  quid  in  his  mouth,  '  that  the  passage  of  the 
Begistration  and  Emancipation  Act,  by  England,  has 
caused  more  discontent  and  trouble  among  the  colo 
nists,  than  ever  was  dreamed  of  by  the  framers  of 
the  madman's  plot ;  madmen  they  are,  for  thus  letting 
loose  upon  a  community,  a  nation  of  brutal  negroes. 
Well,  thousands  of  families  are  thrown  upon  the 
world  homeless  and  penniless ;  for  the  twenty  millions 
of  pounds  pretended  to  be  given  to  the  slaveholder 
will  never  all  be  paid,  and,  if  it  were,  it  can  never  com 
pensate  for  the  unbalanced  state  of  things  which  must 
always  exist ;  for  the  negroes  are  the  most  numerous, 
and  there  ever  will  be  a  clashing  of  interests.  Among 
the  ruined  families  was  one  in  which  there  was  a  high- 
spirited  youth,  who  did  not  see  fit  to  think  as  his 
rulers  did,  and  by  his  actions,  exposed  himself  to  the 


X 


148  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

anger  of  the  government ;  so  he  was  seized,  and  thrown 
*into  prison,  where  he  would  have  remained,  if  some 
noble  fellow  had  not  lent  him  a  hand,  and  he  escaped. 
The  young  man  had  been  a  large  planter,  but  by  some 
wire-working  among  the  big  wigs,  he  got  no  -  allow 
ance  fo!v  one  of  the  finest  estates  in  the  islands.  So 
this  young  fellow  raises  from  his  friends  a  sum  of 
money,  builds  and  equips  a  fast  schooner,  and  has 
been  playing  the  devil  with  the  English  ever  since. 
Nothing  can  take  him ;  he  is  a  splendid  seaman,  and 
could  out-manoeuver  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  himself.  The 
Home  government,  have  even  equipped  a  fast  sailing 
vessel,  and  she  has  been  searching  for  the  "  Terror" 
for  months,  while  he  has  been  sailing  about  at  his' 
leisure.  I  would  not  wonder  if  they  caught  him  after 
a  while,  but  I  hope  not,  for  England  has  abused  her 
trust,  and  acted  the  traitor  to  them  all.' 

"  '  Amen  to  that,'  fervently  exclaimed  De  Montre- 
ville,  as  he  caught  the  captain  by  the  hand. 

"  *  And  I  hope  they  may  catch  him,  and  hang  him 
too,  for  a  man  is  never  safe  as  long  as  a  devil  like 
him  is  prowling  about,'  exclaimed  one  of  the  fat  En 
glish  merchants. 

"  De  Montreville  turned  a  quick  and  angry  glance  at 
the  speaker,  and  replied,  '  Take  care,  my  friend,  that 
your  carcass  does  not  serve  as  food  for  fish,  before 
his.' 

"  The  Englishman  looked  alarmed ;  but  made  no 
reply. 

"  '  "Well,  but  you  have  not  told  me  your  opinion  of 
the  vessel,  Mr.  De  Montreville.'' 

"  '  Suppose  it 's  the  "  Terror,"  captain?' 
•   "  *  I  would  not  be  afraid  of  him,  then,  for  he  is  a  chap 
of  spirit,  and  if  he  is  even  in  a  bad  cause,  he  has  the 


T.HE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  149 

.soul  to  stick  it  out  against  the  fastest  British  cruisers, 
but  what  do  you  say  ?' 

"  '  Well,  I  think  she  is  a  — '  here  he  paused,  and 
looked  around  the  crowd,  and  fastened  his  eyes  on  the 
Englishmen. 

"'A  what  r 

"  l  A.  pirate  T 

"  l  A  pirate  P  shouted  the  captain,  in  blank  amaze 
ment,  'you  are  jesting;  you  do  not  believe  that;  I 
know  that  a  few  pirate  vessels  have  been  reported,  but 
I  always  thought  they  kept  far  off,  out  of  the  cruising 
grounds  of  the  national  vessels." 

"  '  Well  captain,'  he  answered,  laying  down  the  glass 
on  the  fife-rail,  '  Wait  till  eight  bells  to-day,  and  you 
will  see  if  I  am  deceived.' 

"  The  effect  of  this  announcement  upon  the  passengers 
was  startling.  The  Englishmen  seemed  horror-stricken ; 
the  fat  old  gentleman  paced  the  deck  in  agitation,  and 
broken  expressions  of  alarm  came  from  his  lips.  At 
last  he  went  down  into  the  cabin;  but  not  finding 
any  place  sufficiently  capacious  to  conceal  his  bulk,  he 
came  again  on  deck.  The  old  Spaniard  merely  pressed 
his  lips  firmly  together,  and  looking  first  at  the  vessel, 
whose  top-sails  now  showed  distinctly  above  the 
horizon,  and  then  at  his  two  lovely  daughters,  who 
stood  by,  with  pale  faces  and  trembling  forms,  ex 
claimed,  '  We  can  but  die  together,  my  Children :' 
but  his  look  expressed  a  deadly  determination. 

"  De  Montreville  coolly  lit  another  cigar,  and  walked 
away,  leaving  the  group  almost  petrified  with  fear. 
He  gazed  at  the  strange  sail,  and  when*  all  eyes  were 
turned  to  the  same 'object,  seemed  engaged  in  playing 
with  the  signal  halliards,  at  the  mizzen-mast ;  but  no 
one  could  observe  that  he  had  bent  on  a  red  ball,  and 


150  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

that  it  ascended  to  the  mizzen-truck.  Nor  did  any 
one  observe,  as  he  gave  a  sudden  jerk,  that  the  thread 
broke,  and  a  red  flag  floated  out  sullenly  at  the  peak. 

"  There  was  -a  brass  six-pound  gun  onboard  ;  and  as 
every  thing  had  been  set  on  the  brig  which  would 
draw,  the  attention  of  some  of  the  passengers  was  now 
attracted  to  it.  The  captain  ordered  up  all  the  mus 
kets  and  ammunition  on  board.  The  passengers  who 
had  pistols  or  guns  brought  them  out,  and  occupied 
themselves  with  putting  them  in  order.  A  musket 
was  pat  in  the  hands  of  the  timid  old  gentleman,  and 
he  was  directed  to  load  it. 

"  '  Load  it !'  he  exclaimed,  holding  it  out  at  arm's 
length ;  l  why,  bless  your  soul,  I  never  had  one  of  the 
things  in  my  hand  before.  I  don't  know  how  to 
load  it  1' 

"  A  general  laugh  followed  this ;  but  the  old  fellow, 
plucking  courage,  marched  boldly  up  to  where  the 
first  mate  was  dealing  out  powder  and  ball.  He 
determined  the  laugh  should  not  be  on  him  long. 
'  Oh !  I  never  used  them  much,  I  mean,'  he  exclaimed ; 
1  but,  when  I  was  a  young  man,  I  was  considered 
rather  a  good  shot.'  This  was  spoken  in  so  waver 
ing  and  alarmed  a  tone  that  it  called  forth  another 
laugh.  Holding  the  gun,  as  one  would  an  eel,  by  two 
fingers,  he  asked  the  mate  for  some  ammunition.  It 
was  given  to  him.  De  Montreville  was  standing  near 
him,  and  evidently  enjoyed  the  old  fellow's  confusion. 

"  '  Come,  sir,'  he  said ;  '  I  will  be  your  instructor; 
first,  then,  is  your  flint  in  good  order?' 

"  c  Ob,  yes,'  was  the  reply,  as  he  examined  it. 

"  *  Well,  then,  now  for  the  load.  "Where  is  your 
ball?  Well  down  with  that;  so!  Good!  Now  for 
paper.  Well,  ram  that  down !'  Here,  about  half  an 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  151 

old  newspaper  disappeared  down' the  capacious  muzzle 
of  an  '  old  regulation? 

"  '  Now,  for  the  powder.  That  is  right — in  with  it — 
down  it  goes.  Now,  another  wad !  Eeturn  ramrod ! 
There  you  are !  Shoulder  arms !  Now  you  are  ready 
for  all  the  dead  pirates  in  the  Carribbees." 

"  The  old  gentleman  thought  that  he  had  succeeded 
admirably,  and  smiled  with  conscious  pride. 

"  The  captain  was  standing  by  during  all  this  scene, 
wondering'  and  laughing ;  and  when  the  old  fellow 
marched  off  with  the  gun  on  his  shoulder,  he  said — 

"  '  Well,  De  Montreville,  you  must  be  the  deuse.' 

"  c  Why,  captain,  when  I  was  a  young  fellow,  the 
girls  did  say  I  was  a  devil  of  a  fellow,'  he  answered, 
laughing. 

"  The  old  Spaniard,  who  was  a  pure  Castilian,  spoke 
to  him. 

"  '  What  do  you  think  of  all  these  preparations,  sir?' 

"'They  are  useless,  sir.  One  broadside  from  that 
vessel  would  blow  us  out  of  the  water.'  The  old 
man  sighed ;  and  De  Montreville  turned  again  to  the 
captain,  who  was  now  standing  by  the  brass  gun,  and 
giving  directions  about  loading  it. 

" '  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  pop-gun, 
captain  ?'  he  asked,  smiling,  contemptuously. 

"  *  Why,  defend  ourselves,  to  be  sure.' 

"  '  Look  at  that  vessel !' 

"  He  obeyed.  She  had  by  this  time  drawn  nearer, 
loomed  larger  and  heavier  than  before ;  and  he  could 
now  make  her  out  to  be  a  large  schooner,  under  a 
press  of  canvas ;  and  counted  eight  guns  to  a  side. 

"She  was  fast  closing  on  them  ;  notwithstanding  the 
other  vessel  was  straining  every  bowline  and  halliard^ 
and  carried  every  thing  she  had. 


152  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  Now,  do  you  think  it  sensible  to  risk  all  your 
passengers,  and  your  vessel,  against  such  odds?  We 
have  the  weather- gage  of  her,  and  still  she  overhauls 
us  as  if  we  were  a  piece  of  sea-drift.' 

The  captain  studied  and  looked  confused ;  he  saw 
the  force  of  the  reasoning,  but  could  not  tell  what  to 
do  or  say.  *  Well,  what  must  we  do  then ;  give  our 
selves  up,  and  let  all  our  throats  be  cut,  without  raising 
a  hand  in  our  defense  ?' 

"  l  Maybe  she  is  the  "  Flying  Dutchman,"  smiled  the 
young'  man  ;  '  and  if  so,  it  is  said  if  you  load  your  gun 
with  a  Bible,  and  blaze  away  at  her,  she  will  disappear 
in  a  wreath  of  smoke.  Suppose  you  try  it.' 

"  '  Nonsense,  De  Montreville  1  What  would  you 
advise  me  to  do  ?' 

"  *  Why,  compromise  the  matter,  certainly.' 

"  '  How  ?' 

"  '  By  giving  her  what  she  asks.' 

"  {  What  do  you  think  she  wants?' 

"  *  Why,  our  lives,  our  money,  our  goods,  and  every 
thing.' 

"  '  Then,  we  might  have  the  fun  of  shooting  at  her 
a  few  times  first,  if  we  have  to  give  up  every  thing 
any  how.' 

"  'What  amount  of  specie  have  you  got  on  board?' 

"  The  captain  glanced  suspiciously  at  him,  and 
quickly  asked, 

" '  How  did  you  know  there  was  any  specie  on 
board?' 

"  '  Why,  I  must  be  blind  if  I  were  not  to  notice  the 
frequent  visits  of  those  English  merchants  to  the  hold ;  <, 
their  anxious  looks,  and  those  fondling  of  kegs  marked 
"  hardware,"  and  above  all,  their  arrogant  bearing.' 

11  'Well,  you  are  a  close  observer,  certainly;  but  I 


THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS.  153 

did  not  suppose  any  one  knew  of  the  existence  of  that 
specie  on  board,  except  them  and  myself." 

"  '  How  much  is  there  ?' 

"  '  Two  hundred  thousand  dollars.' 

" '  Yes  ;  well,  you  will  only  lose  that.' 

"  '  Do  you  think  so  ?' 

"  { Yes,  that  is  all ;  you  may  depend  on  it.  You 
will  see  Cape  Cod  again.' 

"  *  If  I  thought  that  was  all  they  would  take  I  would 
not  feel  so  uneasy ;  but  it's  pretty  hard  on  them.  I 
hate  these  puffed  up  English  anyhow.' 

"  '  Do  you  know  how  they  made  it?' 
.   "  'No,  I  do  not.' 

"  '  Well,  I  do.  They  made  it  by  supplying  British 
slavers  with  merchandise,  and  money,  and  men,  and 
then  by  assisting  them  to  dispose  of  their  slaves  in 
return,  to  Brazilian  planters,  sailing  under  Portuguese 
colors.' 

"  c  How  do  you  know  that  ?' 

"  '  I  have  seen  them  in  their  operations  ;  and  these 
are  the  men  who  have  caused  so  much  trouble  in  the 
United  States.  These  are  the  men  who  are  preaching 
a  crusade  against  the  Southern  States,  with  their  hands 
fresh  dyed  in  the  blood  of  the  slave.  These  are  the 
men  whose  means  go  to  build  up  the  slave-trade, 
against  which  their  voices  are  raised  so  loudly.' 

"  '  British  slave  dealers !  thunder !  Well,  if  it  is  so, 
I  don't  know  but  it  would  be  as  well  for  them  to  lose 
it  all.'  ^ 

"  During  all  this  time,  the  strange  vessel  had  been 
drawing  nearer ;  and  her  decks,  covered  with  men, 
were  seen  without  the  aid  of  a  glass.  Every  one  ob 
served  the  indifference  of  De  Montreville,  and  the 

7* 


154  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

carelessness  with  which  he  conversed ;  and  it  gave  a 
tone  of  confidence  to  all  around. 

"  '  There  goes  her  flag,'  said  he,  as  an  ensign  floated 
out  from,  her  peak. 

"  c  Can  you  make  it  out  ?'  asked  the  captain,  gazing 
earnestly  at  the  flag  as  it  flapped  against  the  gaff. 

"'Yes,'  he  replied;  -'it  is  a  red  ground;  a  black 
slave  kneeling  ;  and  a  drawn  sword.' 

"  '  It  is  the  "  Terror,"  '  exclaimed  the  captain,  loudly, 
while  the  English  appeared  much  alarmed. 

"  '  Oh,  if  it  should  not  be  an  enemy  after  all  1'  ex 
claimed  one  of  the  young  ladies,  *  what  a  fine  joke  it 
would  be.' 

"  '  Yes ;  but  it  is  an  enemy.' 

"'Do  you  think  so?' 

"  1 1  know  it.' 

"  '  What  are  the  signs  ?' 

"  'Many :  the  flag  is  one,  her  actions  are  one,  and 
her  silence — ' 

"  The  exhibition  of  the  red  flag  now  floating  out,  and 
displaying  itself  fully,  had  caused  a  degree  of  conster 
nation  to  all  on  board ;  and  a  great  commotion  was 
observed.  • 

"  The  captain  came  aft,  where  De  Montreville  was 
standing.  *  Sure  enough,'  said  he,  '  your  conjecture 
was  right.  "What  are  we  to  do  ?' 

"  '  Why,  the  best  we  can.  You  have  answered  her 
signal,'  he  continued,  casting  his  eyes  up.  The  cap 
tain  looked  also  in  the  direction  he  pointed,  and  there, 
at  the  peak  of  the  brig,  floated  a  similar  flag  to  the 
one  exhibited  by  the  schooner.  A  look  of  blank 
amazement  sat  upon  the  countenance  of  the  sailor,  as 
he  asked  in  a  faltering  tone, 


THE    CREOLE  .ORPHANS.  155 

"  £  How  in  the  name  of  Creation  did  that  flag  get  • 
there?' 

"  '  Why,  I  presume  it  was  hoisted  there.7 

"  '  Did  you  see  any  one  do  it  ?' 

"  'Not  I:  ask  some  of  your  crew.  It  is  not  my 
place  to  be  your  quarter-master.' 

"  The  men  were  called  aft,  one  and  all ;  and  swore 
that  they  did  not  hoist  it,  and  saw  no  one  do  it.  The 
passengers  all  testified  to  the  same  thing.  Here  was  a 
nice  state  of  things. 

"  '  I  am  bewitched,'  cried  the  captain,  in  a  rage  ;  '  no 
one  knows  how  a  flag  is  hoisted  on  the  vessel.  Every 
thing  is  mysterious — out  of  the  course  of  nature  ;  and 
I  do  believe  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Sea"  is  abroad.  No  one 
knows  how  that  devil's  rag  got  up  there ;  then  there 
it  shall  stay ;  and  if  we  go  to  the  bottom,  it  shall  go 
with  us,  flying  at  the  peak.' 

"  The  old  seamen  shook  their  heads,  and  cast  a  sus 
picious  glance  at  the  bloody  flag  which  waved  gloom* 
ily  over  head,  as  if  placed  there  by  the  '  Demon  of 
the  Sea.' 

"  The  chase  was  now  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  the 
brig,  and  rapidly  nearing.  All  hands  stood  and  gazed 
at  her  approach,  in  stupid  wonder  and  alarm. 

"  In  a  moment  more,  a  wreath  of  smoke  curled  from 
one  of  her  forward  ports,  the  sharp  crack  of  a  gun 
vibrated  on  the  air,  and  a  shot  whistled  ahead  of  the 
brig.  They  had  been  heading  to  the  south-west,  but 
changed  her  course  a  point,  as  the  brig  changed  hers. 
In  working  the  vessel,  the  men  went  slowly,  and  with 
reluctance,  to  their  duty.  The  affair  of  the  flag  had 
been  evidently  preying  on  their  minds,  and  with  their 
natural  superstition,  they  yielded  to  an  influence  which 


156  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

they  dared  not  grapple  with.  They  at  once  attributed 
the  elevation  of  the  flag  to  supernatural  agency. 

"  '  That  is  a  signal  which  you  had  best  not  disregard, 
captain/  remarked  De  Montreville. 

"  He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  replied,  that  as 
there  was  no  other  course  left  for  him  to  pursue,  he 
supposed  he  must  obey ;  and,  accordingly,  orders 
were  given  to  shorten*sail.  As  the  sails  were  quiver 
ing  in  the  winds,  and  the  headway  checked  through 
the  water,  the  schooner  drew  nearer,  and  her  sailing 
qualities  were  more  perceptible.  The  maintopsail  was 
laid  to  the  mast,  and  she  remained  stationary,  merely 
drifting  along.  The  schooner  was  within  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  of  the  brig,  and  as  she  neared  her,  the  men 
were  distinctly  seen  through  the  open  ports  ;  she  gently 
fell  off  the  wind,  and  lay  with  her  sails  shivering.  Fe 
rocious  faces,  covered  with  shaggy  beards  of  months7 
growthj  scowled  upon  them  through  the  ports,  and 
over  the  hammock  nettings,  while  her  long  Spanish 
guns  were  terrible  to  behold,  as  they  protruded  threat 
eningly  from  their  ports ;  seemingly  only  awaiting  a 
signal  to  open  a  volcano  of  flame  and  iron  from  their 
dark  mouths.  As  they  lay  in  this  position,  an  officer 
sprang  into  the  mizen  rigging  of  the  schooner  with  a 
trumpet.  When  near  enough,  a  hoarse  hail  was 
brought  over  the  water. 

"  '  What  vessel  is  that  ?' 

"  '  Shall  I  reply,  sir  ?'  asked  De  Montreville,  seizing 
the  trumpet. 

"  '  Ay,  ay !  do,  sir.' 

"  He  stepped  to  the  rigging,  and,  mounting  a  few 
rattlins,  answered:  l  Brig  "  Sea  Foam,"  from  New 
York,  for  Guiana.' 

"  A  murmur  of  voices  was  heard,  at  first  like  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  157 

faint  moan  of  the  sobbing  waves  upon  the  sandy  shore, 
then  louder,  as  if  those  waves  had  been  awakened  ;  it 
rose  louder,  and  then  swelled  into  a  deafening  cheer. 
It  ceased,  and  again  it  rose  on  the  breeze.  Again  it 
died  away,  and  once  more  that  cheer  ascended  loud 
and  long  from  the  schooner.  All  looked  in  astonish 
ment  at  each  other.  De  Montreville  alone  was  calm. 
When  the  cheers  arose,  and  the  sea  and  air  re-echoed 
to  the  sound,  he  smiled,  and,  ah  !  that  smile !  how  sig 
nificant  and  full  of  meaning !  and  his  lips  curled,  as  if 
in  pride  or  scorn.  A  few  minutes  more,  and  a  fully 
manned  and  armed  boat  was  seen  to  shove  off  from 
the  schooner,  and  approach  the  brig.  Each  soul  waited 
breathless,  and  in  silence.  It  pulled  around  to  the 
starboard  side,  and  an  officer  stepped  over  the  gang 
way.  A  half  look  of  recognition  passed  between  him 
and  De  Montreville,  which  the  latter  instantly  checked 
by  a  slight  frown.  The  officer  then  walked  up  to  the 
captain,  and  asked  for  the  brig's  papers.  These  were 
brought  out,  and  placed  on  the  capstan.  He  advanced, 
and  took  them  up.  The  crowd  of  passengers  was,  by 
this  time,  all  huddled  together  in  a  group  near  the 
break  of  the  poop,  conversing  in  a  low  tone  of  voice, 
all  except  the  old  Spaniard,  who  stood  with  a  pistol 
in  each  hand,  between  the  stranger  and  his  two 
daughters. 

"  '  These  are  all  right,  captain,'  remarked  the  lieu 
tenant,  with  a  smile,  as  he  checked  off  certain  items 
with  a  pencil ;  '  and  now,  will  you  oblige  me  by  hav 
ing  hoisted  up  from  the  hold  those  kegs  containing 
"  hardware?"' 

"  *  You  said  so,'  observed  the  captain  to  De  Montre 
ville,  '  and  now  I  believe  you  are  the  devil  or — ' 

"  *  The  commander  of  that  vessel,'  replied  he,  laugh- 


158  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

ing.  *  Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen,'  he  added,  as  lie 
turned  to  the  surprised  crowd ;  {  you  see  before  you 
the  first  officer  of  that  vessel.  Nay,  start  not !  no  harm 
is  intended  ;  we  will  only  relieve  the  gentlemen  of  that 
specie,  which  they  can  easily  replace  out  of  the  first 
cargo  of  slaves ;  and  then  depart  in  peace.  Come,  to 
work !' 

"  The  captain  of  the  brig  appealed  to  the  passen 
gers  to  sustain  him,  and  to  bear  witness  that  he  was 
forced  to  yield  to  the  power  of  arms.  Upon  the  order 
being  repeated,  the  brig's  men  went  to  work  to  hoist 
out  the  heavy  kegs,  and  they  soon  appeared  on  deck. 
The  Englishmen  protested  loudly  against,  the  act,  and 
begged  most  piteously  that  he  would  not  allow  his 
men  to  proceed  in  their  labors.  He  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  their  cries.  They  then  informed  him  that  the  money 
was  not  considered  strictly  a  portion  of  the  cargo,  but 
as  private  baggage.  At  length  the  money  was  all  out, 
and  to  their  importunities  he  at  length  replied, 

"  '  I  choose  to  think  as  I  please ;  I  am  the  enemy  of 
every  thing  English.  She  has  been  to  me  a  harsh  and 
cruel  mother.  My  ancestors  were  the  possessors  of 
fair  lands  and  broad  domains  ;  they  had  appertained  to 
them  for  centuries,  their  fields  teemed  with  golden 
grain,  and  their  meadows  were  filled  with  flocks  and 
herds  ;  England  with  her  corrupt  ministers,  hypocriti 
cal  divines,  her  unjust  judiciary,  and  dishonest  peers, 
have  framed  laws  to  swindle  and  defraud.  One  of  my 
ancestors  was  an  adherent  to  the  cause  of  .that  most 
unfortunate  person,  Prince  Charles  Edward,  and  when 
he  landed  in  Scotland  he  joined  him  there ;  he  was 
with  him  in  his  troubles,  and  sheltered  him  in  his 
mansion ;  he  remained  faithful  to  him  in  his  adversity, 
and  took  leave  of  him  when  he  sailed  for  France.  For 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  159 

this,  our  family  estates  were  confiscated ;  our  honor 
able  house  broken  up,  and  driven  forth  wanderers  and 
penniless.  I  have  visited  our  ancient  "birthplace  ;  the 
fox  burrows  in  the  vaults,  the  lizzard  casts  its  noisome 
slime  over  the  walls,  the  owl  sends  forth  her  dismal 
cr y  from  its  towers,  and  all  is  desolation  and  decay ;  I 
have  descended  into  the  vaults  where  the  bones  of  my 
forefathers  lie,  and  I  have  sworn  by  them  to  be  avenged. 

"  '  My  father  died  a  broken-hearted  wanderer.  But 
this  is  not  all ;  fortune  smiled,  and  a  beautiful  home 
was  ours  in  the  islands,  now  made  hideous  by  the  bar 
barous  negro,  by  this  most  unjust  act  of  England,  in 
giving  freedom  to  so  many  savages  ;  and  again  were  we 
driven  forth,  wanderers  again  ;  I  was  seized,  my  limbs 
were  ironed,  our  lovely  island  home  was  desolated,  and 
in  ruins,  and  I  in  British  irons,  and  for  what?  Why 
for  merely  urging  upon  my  fellow  sufferers,  to  refuse 
to  sanction  such  an  act  of  injustice.  For  this  am  I 
the  enemy  of  England,  and  every  thing  that  is  Eng 
lish  !  With  her  and  me  there  is  no  reconciliation  ;  in 
war  and  peace  I  am  the  same.  This  is  the  cause  of 
my  present  position.  Come  Mr.  Squillgee,'  he  said, 
turning  to  the  coxswain  of  the  boat,  *  get  those  kegs  off.* 

"  There  was  now  seen  another  boat  pushing  off  from 
the  schooner  ;  it  was  the  launch,  and  filled  with  men 
also.  When  it  came  alongside,  the  kegs  of  specie 
were  handed  down  into  her,  and  she  prepared  to  re 
turn.  The  Englishmen  looked  with  wistful  eyes  at  the 
departing  boat,  and  sighed.  The  steward  of  the  brig 
was  passing  at  this  moment  with  several  bottles  of  wine. 
De  Montreville  beckoned  him,  and  taking  one  from 
him,  ordered  a  glass.  This  was  brought,  *  Now  cap 
tain,'  I  will  drink  your  health,  and ;  yours  my  friends,'  he 
added  looking  toward  the  other  passengers.  Here  he 


160  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

struck  the  neck  of  the  bottle  against  the  capstan,  and 
as  it  flew  off,  the  red  wine  was  spilt  on  the  deck,  '  That 
is  the  only  blood  I  ever  have  shed,'  he  said  as  he  pour 
ed  out  a  brimming  glass.  £  Come,  cheer  up  my  heart 
ies!'  he  exclaimed,  addressing  the  Englishmen,  'you 
little  thought  when  you  were  abusing  the  captain  of 
the  "  Terror,"  that  he  was  before  you.  Suppose  I 
treat  you  now,  as  you  wished  me  served ;  but  never 
fear ;  he  laughed  as  he  saw  consternation  depicted  on 
their  countenances,  '  I  won't  hang  you  this  time ;  we 
will  meet  again.  Keep  up  a  good  heart,  you  will  soon 
make  up  what  you  have  lost.  There  are  plenty  more 
of  your  country  men  wanting  outfits  for  slave  voyages.' 
Then  turning  to  the  Spanish  girls  he  said,  l  Am  I  so 
very  terrible  a  pirate  after  all  ?' 

"  Just  at  this  moment  a  voice  sung  out  forward  *  sail 
ho !'  All  hands  sprung  in  the  direction  pointed  out. 
It  was  on  the  starboard  bow.  The  captain  directed 
the  glass  in  that  quarter,  and  after  a  moment  exclaim 
ed,  *  It  is  a  heavy  vessel.'  De  Montreville  took  the 
glass,  and  then  as  he  laid  it  down,  quietly  said,  'you 
are  right,  captain  ;  it  is  a  large  and  heavy  vessel,  it  is  a 
British  frigate.'  All  eyes  were  directed  to  his  counte 
nance  as  he  said  this,  but  not  a  trace  of  emotion  could 
be  seen ;  all  was  as  calm  as  a  summer  sea.  There  was 
an  agitation,  and  whispering  among  the  English,  who 
were  standing  some  distance  off. 

"  De  Montreville  smiled,  and  turned  to  the  captain, 
1  yes,  captain,  you  will  be  compelled  to  follow  the  re 
quest  of  those  gentlemen ;  you  must  communicate 
your  loss  to  that  British  cruiser.' 

"  The  captain  looked  surprised,  while,  as  he  spoke  in  a 
loud  voice  the  English  started,  and  seemed  confused  and 
alarmed ;  for  that  was  the  subject  of  their  conversation. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  161 

"  l  Well,  if  you  see  the  commander  of  .that  frigate, 
present  my  respects,  and  tell  him  to  catch  me,  if  he  can." 
He  remained  a  few  minutes  longer,  then,  bidding  a 
courteous  farewell  to  the  passengers,  followed  the 
lieutenant  into  the  boat.  The  captain  went  to  the 
gangway :  *  Hold  on  a  moment,'  he  said,  '  I  shall 
never  be  satisfied,  until  I  find  out  how  you  knew  there 
was  specie  in  those  kegs  ?' 

"  '  Oh,'  answered  he  laughing,  '  that  is  easy  enough, 

I  was  in  the  agent's  office  when  the  arrangement  was 
made  in  New  York  ;  but  I  knew  it  was  to  be  shipped 
before  you  arrived  in  New  York,  on  your  last  trip, 
from  my  agent  in  Demerara.' 

"  '  Then,'  replied  the  captain,  'you  are  not  the  devil 
after  all.' 

"  '  Not  a  bit  of  it.' 

"  The  boat  shoved  off,  and  a  few  minutes'  sturdy  pull 
ing,  brought  them  to  the  schooner ;  the  falls  were 
hanging  over  the  boom,  ready  for  the  boat,  and  tackle 
ready  to  hook ;  the  boat  was  soon  hauled  up,  sail 
made  on  the  schooner,  and  when  the  sun  was  sinking, 
her  hull  was  not  visible  to  the  brig,  or  frigate,  which 
had  by  this  time  come  into  view ;  and  only  a  few 
white  specks  were  seen,  like  the  wing  of  a  sea  bird  on 
the  horizon." 

"  Oh  beautiful !  beautiful  I"  exclaimed  all  the  ladies, 

II  it  would  make  quite  a  delightful  novel  if  you  only 
had  put  a  little  love  in  it." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  he  answered,  "for 
this  is  the  only  pirate  story  I  can  tell  to-night ;  I  must 
go  and  write  up  my  log-book,  and  take  a  lunar  observ 
ation."  So  saying  he  arose,  and  throwing  his  cigar 
over  the  taffrail,  passed  forward,  calling  all  hands  to 
change  watch. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  The  morning  watch  was  come ;  the  vessel  lay 
Her  course,  and  gently  made  her  liquid  way ; 
The  cloven  billows  flashed  from  off  her  prow 
In  furrows  formed  by  that  majestic  plow." 

THE  ISLAND. 

rPHE  next 'day,  about  noon,  the  blue  mountains 
•*•  which  intersect  Porto  Eico,  appeared  in  sight  like 
azure  clouds  on  the  horizon. 

In  nearing  the  island,  they  were  charmed  at  the 
extreme  verdure  which  covered  the  rocks  rising  per 
pendicularly  from  the  water.  The  tall  cocoa-nut  and, 
palm-trees,  arose  straight  and  slender  on  the  terraced 
heights ;  and  the  white  villas  embowered  in  bananas, 
formed  a  scene  of  extreme  beauty  and  fertility.  As 
they  passed  along  the  shore,  peaceful  and  quiet  vil 
lages  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the  niountains  which 
were  clothed  with  dark  green  forests,  and  whose  sum*" 
mits  seemed  to  reach  the  clouds/  The  town  of  San 
Juan  on  the  northern  side,  the  port  to  which  the  ves 
sel  was  consigned,  was  in  sight,  built  on  a  fine  high 
eminence  on  the  end  of  the  peninsula. 

The  vessel  entered  the  harbor  just  at  sunset,  and  as 
the  evening  gun  was  fired  from  the  fort.  The  Spanish 
authorities  came  on  board  before  the  anchor  was  drop 
ped,  and  no  permits  were  given  to  land  that  evening. 

Colonel  Ormond  learned  from  them  that  there  was 
a  French  vessel  to  sail  in  the  morning  for  the  Caribbees ; 
this  gave  him  great  pleasure,  and  by  the  aid  of  a  small 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  163 

golden  present,  the  official  undertook  to  convey  to 
the  master  of  the  craft  a  note  desiring  him  to  remain 
until  they  could  be  allowed  to  change  to  it  in  the 
morning. 

There  were  a  good  many  vessels  in  the  harbor,  and 
it  pleased  our  friends  to  see  the  "  stars  and  stripes" 
floating  among  them,  and  to  hear  the  sweet  familiar 
language  of  home,  ever  and  anon  arising  amid  the 
confusion  of  tongues. 

The  passengers  gathered  on  deck  and  passed  the 
evening  in  pleasant  conversation,  in  exchanging  cour 
tesies,  and  amusing  each  other  with  tales}  in  which 
the  captain  bore  a  conspicuous  part. 

The  moon,  just  then  a  slender  crescent  arose,  and 
threw  a  tinge  of  silver  upon  the  town,  the  shipping, 
and  the  harbor ;  and  the  evening  breeze  ruffled  the 
water,  causing  tiny  wavelets*  which  formed  a  sweet 
and  soothing  music.  The  distant  sounds  softened  by 
the  space  between  the  vessel  and  the  town,  the  bursts 
of  laughter  from  the  forecastles  of  the  different  crafts 
in  port,  the  light  song,  the  big  round  oath  and  the 
tinkling  of  a  guitar,  all  spoke  a  new  and  strange  shore ; 
and  these  mingled  with  the  creaking  of  rudders,  the 
rattle  of  cordage  and  swaying  of  the  spars,  the  hail  of 
e<  Who  goes  there  ?"  and  "  Qui  vive  I"  from  the  sentries, 
and  the  tap  of  the  drum  from  the  fort,  the  noise  of 
turning  out  the  guard,  and  the  cry  of  the  guard  on 
the  mole ;  all  told  of  strange  sights  aad  sounds  to  be 
seen  and  heard. 

In  the  morning,  the  Custom-house  officer  came  on 
board,  gave  our  passengers  permission  to  depart  and 
exchange  vessels.  This  was  welcome  news,  the  cap 
tain'  had  his  own  boat  manned,  and  took  them  over 
himself  to  the  French  schooner.  The  master  of  the 


164:  -THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

vessel  had  signified  Ms  consent  previously  to  receive 
them. 

The  parting  with  the  old  captain  was  affecting. 

"  Blast  my  eyes !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  shoved  off; 
"  I  have  followed  the  salt  water  for  many  years  and 
made  many  a  voyage,  and  had  many  a  bright-eyed 
passenger,  but  none  I  liked  as  well  as  I  do  these." 
Dr,  Grant  threw  a  handful  of  silver  into  the  boat 
among  the  men,  and  his  liberality  was  greeted  by 
cheers  from  them.  The  other  passengers  expressed 
great  regret  at  the  separation,  and  many  kind  invita 
tions  were  extended  to  our  party  to  visit  them. 

"  "Well,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  as  he  yawned  and 
looked  around,  after  having  the  baggage  stowed  in 
the  cabin,  and  the  ladies  made  comfortable.  "Here 
we  are,  regular  citizens  of  the  glorious  United  .States, 
taking  a  cruise  among  the  cannibals  of  the  Caribbee 
Islands ;  a  perfect  wild  goose-chase,  and  if  we  get 
back  safe  and  sound  it  will  be  a  wonder.  Who  would 
have  thought  it  a  fortnight  ago  ?" 

"Well,  doctor,"  laughed  Ormond,  "take  it  easy, 
we  will  get  back  safe,  and  it  will  do  to  talk  about 
over  our  wine  and  cigars." 

"(Ji,  dear  Louisiana!  with  your  civilization  and 
refinement;  a  man  never  knows  how  to  appreciate 
you  until  he  leaves  your  fertile  shores." 

"Why,  doctor,  you  are  getting  quite  sentimental!" 
exclaimed  Marie';  "but  see,  there  comes  our  captain  ; 
we  are  about  to  sail." 

The  commander  in  truth  now  came  forward  and 
welcomed  them,  apologized  for  his  poor  accommoda 
tions,  but  hoped  for  a  speedy  trip. 

Ormond  repliedj  and  assured  him  that  they  were  suf 
ficient,  and  that  the  obligations  they  were  under  would 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  165 

counterbalance  any  inconvenience  they  were  subjected 
to.  He  bowed  and  smiled  as  only  a  Frenchman  can, 
and  left  them  to  get  his  craft  under  weigh. 

When  this  was  done,  he  had  an  awning  rigged,  and" 
a  hammock  swung ;  wine  was  brought,  and  the  time 
passed  very  pleasantly.  The  land  breeze  had  sprung 
up,  with  it  the  sails  of  the  vessel  swelled  out,  and  they 
swiftly  left  the  harbor.  They  passed  the  island  of  St. 
Thomas,  and  before  night  the  high  land  of  Santa  Cruz 
had  sunk  into  the  ocean. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  that  the 
mountains  of  Martinique  Avere  seen,  a  blue  line  on  the 
water,  and  among  them  were  the  Montagne  Pelee, 
whose  top  seemed  tipped  with  silver. 

Ever  since  their  departure  from  Louisiana,  the 
health  of  Mrs.  Grant  had  appeared  to  improve.  She 
was  no  longer  affected  with  that  difficulty  of  breathing 
which  characterizes  persons  suffering  under  pulmonary 
disease ;  the  hectic  flush  had  departed,  strength  seemed 
to  be  almost  restored,  and  her  appetite  heretofore  ca 
pricious  and  variable,  appeared  to  have  returned.  She 
no  longer  required  the  support  of  the  doctor,  but 
seemed  in  all  respects  benefited.  He  was  delighted ; 
and  when  she  took  his  hand  and  fondly  smiled  saying, 
"  Doctor,  I  believe  your  l  wild-goose  chase'  will  effect 
a  cure  in  your  invalid,"  none  were  more  pleased  than 
his  two  friends,  and  he  turned  off  with  a  full  heart 
and  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  trembling  on  his  lips. 

As  they  approached  the  coast  of  the  island,  the 
land  seemed  to  rise  and  gradually  become  -elevated  to 
the  mountains,  which  occupy  the  center.  A  dense 
forest  extended  up  their  sides,  and  high  up  in  the 
region  of  the  clouds  could  be  seen  the  white  villas 
glittering  in  the  sunbeams. 


166  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Upon  the  Bay  of  Port  Koyal  stands  the  town  of  the 
same  name. 

When  it  became  visible,  Marie  was  standing  by  the 
bulwarks,  gazing  toward  the  land,  and  an  indescriba 
ble  feeling  pervaded  her  soul.  Before  her  lay  the 
place  of  her  nativity,  of  her  childhood's  happiness, 
and  of  her  sorrows.  In  the  cemetery  lay  the  bones  of 
her  sire  ;  but,  ah !  her  mother,  that  gentle  being  whose 
pitying  eye  and  loving  hand  had  guided  her  infant 
footsteps ;  where  was  she  ?  It  was  true  that  she 
scarcely  remembered  her,  that  only  a  dim  vision  of 
soft  hands,  gentle  caresses,  and  tender  words  floated 
through  her  memory ;  but  she  knew  that  the  ocean's 
briny  wave  hoarsely  sung  her  dirge,  and  that  in  its 
coral  caves  and  wreaths  of  sea- weed  her  bones  lay  un- 
sanctified.  But  she  remembered  the  laughing  rivulet 
which  came  dashing  down  the  mountain  slope  in  the 
rear  of  the  garden ;  she  remembered  the  tall  cocoanut- 
trees  waving  their  broad  leaves  in  the  tropical  air,  the 
mango  skirting  the  stream,  and  dipping  its  long 
branches,  loaded  with  golden  clusters  of  ripe  fruit,  in 
the  cool  water ;  and  the  bright- winged  birds  too,  and 
the  flowering  shrubs,  all  these  were  too  faithfully  re 
membered. 

Again,  her  departure  from  home  for  France;  the 
years  of  kindness  from  the  good  ladies  of  the  convent, 
the  agonizing  news  of  her  mother's  loss,  and  her  re 
turn  to  her  island  home. 

She  remembered  the  little  cottage  of  her  aunt,  in 
which  sh^then  dwelt,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where 
she,  a  beauteous  and  artless  maiden,  gathered  shells, 
made  fairy  bowers,  laved  her  fair  arms  in  the  crystal 
stream,  twined  flowers  in  her  dark  hair,  and  dreamed 
of  a  love  which  she  had  never  felt. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  167 

Ay!  and  she  remembered  her  kind  old  aunt;  and 
old  "  Juba,"  the  slave,  who  used  to  fix  out  her  borders 
of  flowers ;  and  the  visit  of  Berwick,  the  black-hearted 
fiend,  who,  undej  the  guise  of  kindness,  visited  their 
little  cot,  and  prevailed  on  her  relative  to  allow  Marie 
to  accompany  them  to  Jamaica.  She  recalled  the  de 
light  it  gave  her  when  preparing,  and  the  voyage,  the 
kindness  of  Berwick  and  his  wife. 

But,  ah !  she  did  not  forget  the  termination  of  that 
voyage,  the  agony  and  the  horror,  the  deathlike  stu 
pefaction  which  took  possession  of  her,  when  she  was 
coolly  informed  by  him  that  she  was  to  be  sold  as  a 
slave,  her  prayers  and  tears,  and  the  cruel  taunts  of 
the  devil  who  laughed  at  her  misery.  JSFo,  nor  did 
she  forget  the  slave-mart  where  she  was  put  up  and 
sold,  and  saw  the  gold  counted  out  for  her. 

She  never  could  forget  these  things;  they  were  im 
printed  in  her  memory,  and  seared  in  her  brain  as 
with  a  hot  iron,  which  left  its  indelible  mark  forever. 

But  she  remembered  the  kind  words  which  Ormond 
spoke  to  her,  for  it  was. his  words  of  kindness  and  pity 
which  had  found  an  echo  in  her  breast ;  those  kind 
words  which  had,  like  a  gentle  south  wind,  touched 
the  strings  of  her  soul's  harp,  and  called  forth  sweet 
and  soothing  tones,  and  made  her  love  and  trust  in 
him. 

Such  were  the  feelings  which  filled  the  soul  of  Marie, 
and  wrapt  her  mind  in  its  own  recollections,  as  sjie 
leaned  against  the  bulwarks  and  gazed  toward  the 
bright  isle. 

Ormond  stood  by  her  side ;  but  he  was  silent.  He 
imagined  the  intensity  of  her  mind's  workings ;  that 
her  feelings  were  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch ; 
that  her  thoughts  were  too  sacred  for  interruption — 


168  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

and  he  was  silent ;  but  his  spirit  communed  with  hers 
as  he  stood  by  her,  and  he  also  gazed  at  the  land  which 
they  were  rapidly  nearing — that  land 

"  Which  wooed  him,  whispering  lovely  tales 
Of  many  a  flowering  glade, 
And  founts'  bright  gleam  in  island-vales, 
Of  golden-fruited  shade." 

They  approached  the  harbor  and  entered  it  about 
midday,  between  Forts  Bourbon  and  Louis,  frowning 
on  them,  and  the  tricolored  flag  of  France  waving  on 
the  breeze.  There  was  no  opposition  to  their  imme 
diate  disembarkation,  and  they  left  the  vessel  at  once. 

As  Mrs.  Grant  was  considerably  fatigued,  they  took 
up  their  residence  at  the  ariberge  premier  of  the  town. 
Their  rooms  were  large  and  airy,  a  spacious  covered 
balcony  overlooking  the  bay,  and  the  sea  or  land 
breeze  ever  blowing,  which  rustled  the  colored  muslin 
curtains  pleasantly.  Cool  India  matting  covered  the 
floors,  and  vases  of  flowers,  which  gave  out  their  fra 
grance,  were  placed  around  the  room,  and  fans  of 
woven  grass  to  cool  the  heated  atmosphere.  On  the 
whole,  it  was  extremely  novel  and  delightful,  and  the 
females  now  reposed  themselves  after  the  fatigues  of 
the  voyage. 

Colonel  Ormond  and  the  doctor  took  a  ramble ; 
they  wondered  at  the  antique  cast  of  the  buildings, 
and  made  their  remarks  on  the  unusual  sights  which 
presented  themselves,  at  the  costumes  of  the  people, 
the  merchants,  soldiers,  Creoles  and  beggars,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  negroes. 

Colonel  Ormond  inquired  of  an  aged  Creole  at  the 
market,  if  he  remembered  the  person  of  an  old  Creole 
woman  named  De  Lange,  who  was  Marie's  aunt,  and  \ 
who  formerly  lived  in  the  rear  of  the  town  ? 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  169 

The  old  man  thoughtfully  replied,  "  Indeed,  mon 
sieur,  I  do  remember  an  old  lady  of  the  name,  who 
lived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain ;  but  years  have 
passed  since  she  has  been  dead.  It  is  difficult  to  re 
member  persons  in  this  country ;  the  changes  have 
been  great;  so  many  different  rulers  have  we  had, 
and  so  often  has  the  flag  of  England  waved  over 
us,  that  many  of  our  old  citizens  are  dead  or  re 
moved."  ' 

He  replied,  "  We  are  strangers  here ;  I  have  a  letter 
for  the  Prefet  Apostolique.  Can  you  direct  me  to  his 
residence?" 

u  Certainly,  monsieur,"  answered  the  obliging  old 
man,  and  walking  on  before  for  some  distance,  he 
pointed  out  a  large  building  on  a  square:  "-There, 
monsieur,  his  reverence  lives.  Ah  !  and  he  is  a  holy 
and  good  man !"  He  paused ;  they  thanked  him,  and 
passed  on. 

The  palace  of  the  prefect,  or  the  superior  ecclesiastic 
of  the  island,  was  situated  on  one  side  of  a  square, 
fronting  some  public  buildings,  and  near  the  cathedral. 
As  they  passed  the  door  of  the  mansion  they  observed 
a  good  many  persons  in  waiting;  hence  they  con 
cluded  to  defer  their  visit  until  the  following  day. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  give  a  minute  detail  of 
their  actions  here.  Our  time  must  be  occupied  with 
more  absorbing  themes. 

That  evening  a  ramble  was  proposed ;  the  whole 
party  sallied  out,  and  turned  their  footsteps  to  the  sub 
urbs  of  the  town,  where  the  beauty  of  the  villas  of 
the  foreign  merchants  embowered  in  foliage  invited 
them  to  linger.  Thence,  at  the  instance  of  Marie,  they 
sauntered  toward  the  old  quarter  of  the  town ;  ghe 
hoped  to  see  the  residence  of  her  childhood  as  it  was 


170  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

once  ;  and  yet  she  half  wished  that  she  might  be  dis« 
appointed,  as  in  truth  she  was;  the  mountain  slope 
was  the  same,  and  there  was  even  one  old  familiar 
palm-tree,  but  the  home  which  had  sheltered  the  youth 
ful  Marie,  was  gone,  and  in  its  place,  arose  the  proud 
dwelling  of  an  English  merchant;  innovation  Was 
even  here.  Progress,  in  this  far  off  clime,  had  raised 
her  head.  All  was  changed ;  the  little  stream  which 
once  had  run  so  merrily,  keeping .  time,  in'  its  silver 
murmurs,  with  the  clear  and  bell-like  voice  of  Marie, 
was  choked  up,  and  gone ;  its  bed  was  dry ;  there  was 
no  familiar  spot  to  the  eye  ;  even  the  little  birds,  her 
playmates  and  friends,  were  fled ;  her  flowers  disap 
peared,  she  felt  like  a  stranger  in  her  childhood's  home ; 
she  hea.ved  a  deep  sigh,  and  turned  sorrowfully  away. 

The  next  morning  Colonel  Ormond  alone  walked 
to  the  Palazzo  of  the  head  churchman.  There  were  as 
usual  a  great  many  persons  in  waiting ;  among  them 
could  be  noticed  an  officer  or  two  of  the  French  army 
and  others,  who  seemed  to  wait  the  pleasure  of  this 
functionary.  The  arrival  of  Colonel  Ormond  attract 
ed  unusual  attention,  and  he  had  to  undergo  the  scru 
tiny  of  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  after  sending  in  his  card 
and  letter.  He  had  anticipated  rather  a  haughty  re 
ception  from  the  churchman,  from  the  aristocratic  state 
which  surrounded  him ;  but  what  was  his  agreeable 
surprise,  upon  being  ushered  into  his  presence,  in  a 
small  room  fitted  up  as  a  cabinet,  to  find  a  gentlemanly, 
urbane  person,  apparently  about  sixty  years  of  age, 
who  received  him  as  a  fond  father  would  a  son. 

He  arose,  and  met  him  with  extended  hands. 

."  My  son,"  he  said,  in  the  most  bland  manner,  "  I 
am  glad  to  be  able  to  meet  you ;  and  how  did  you 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  171 

leave  our  worthy  friend  ?"  lie  added,  tapping  the  let 
ter  which  he  held  open  in  his  hand. 

Ormond  assured  him  of  the  good  health  of  his  cor 
respondent.  A  chair  was  placed,  and  he  was  requested 
to  sit  down. 

"  You  must  not  think,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  that  we 
are  hard  to  approach,  because  of  the  mode  we  do  bus 
iness  ;  for  there  is  a  great  deal  of  work  for  us ;  and 
we  have  to  reduce  it  to  a  system."  There  were  sever 
al  priests  in  the  room,  with  whom  it  appeared  his 
business  was  concluded,  for  he  delivered  to  them 
several  papers,  and  terminated  his  discourse  in  a  low 
tone. 

While  thus  engaged,  Ormond  had  an  opportunity 
to  make  a  few  observations.  The  room  in  which  they 
were  in,  overlooked  a  court-yard;  in  the  center  of 
which,  a  fountain  threw  up  its  crystal  jet  of  water,  and 
falling  again,  burst  into  a  little  shower  of  spray,  that 
imparted  a  delicious  coolness  to  the  atmosphere.  A 
border  of  dark  mold  surrounded  the  fountain,  and  a 
thick  circle  of  rich  flowering  shrubs,  lent  a  sweetness 
to  the  air,  which  even  penetrated  the  study  wherein  he 
sat. 

A  row  of  arched  doors  bounded  the  prospect. 

The  room  itself  was  furnished  plainly.  In  a  niche 
in  the  wall,  was  an  ivory  statuette  of  Jesus,  and  oppo 
site,  one  of  the  same  material  of  Mary,  while  on  an 
other  portion  hung  a  splendid  painting  of  Christ  bear 
ing  his  cross ;  which  Ormond,  as  a  dear  lover  of  the 
beautiful,  knew  to  be  from  none  other  than  an  Italian 
hand. 

On  the  other  side,  hung  a  large  map  of  the  French 
West  Indies ;  and  a  rosary  of  silver  was  suspended 
beneath  it.  A  small  cabinet  of  rich  workmanship  was 


172  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

placed  on  one  side,  and  appeared  to  be  filled  with  pa 
pers. 

The  Prefect  now  arose,  and  as  the  priests  withdrew, 
he  approached  our  friend. 

"  Mj  son,  I  again  welcome  you,  and  must  ask,  Is 
there  aught  in  which  our  poor  services  can  avail 
you?"- 

Pleased  with  his  mildness;  and  suavity  of  manner, 
Ormond,  as  he  gazed  at  the  venerable  prelate,  felt  an 
instinctive  love  and  reverence  for  him. 

"  Father,"  he  replied  at  once — but  at  first  in  rather 
a  confused,  and  embarrassed  manner,  "  My  story  is  long, 
and  I  fear  will  tire  your  good  nature." 

"  Proceed  my  son,  speak  freely,  let  naught  restrain 
you,"  he  said,  drawing  a  chair  close  to  his  side. 

Ormond  began,  and  gave  him  a  history  of  the  ab 
duction  of  Marie,  her  sale  as  a  slave,  and  of  her  pur 
chase  ;  his  connection  with  her,  the  birth  of  his  chil 
dren,  his  present  situation  and  wishes  in  regard  to  her, 
the  reason  why  he  did  not  wish  to  make  the  matter 
public  in  Louisiana ;  and  of  his  views  and  wishes  in 
regard  to  Marie. 

When  he  first  commenced,  the  ecclesiastic  fixed  his 
large  dark  eyes  on  his  couxftenance  with  an  interest  in 
his  story ;  but,  as  he  proceeded,  the  Prefect  gave  a 
slight  start ;  and  riveted  his  gaze  more  intently,  and 
with  a  melancholy  interest  upon  him. 

He  heard  him  through  without  interruption,  and 
when  he  had  finished,  replied  : 

"  My  son,  you  are  impelled  by  honor  to  make  this 
reparation  ;  it  is  a  noble  sentiment ;  and  also  I  hope, 
by  a  belief  in  your  responsibility  to  society,  and  a  de 
sire  to  obey  the  word  of  Grod,  which  encourages  mat 
rimony.  You  have  been  very  neglectful,  but  at  the . 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  173 

eleventh  hour,  it  is  not  even  too  late.  Your  views  are 
high  and  virtuous,  and  your  purpose  sincere ;  your 
wishes  are  natural,  to  protect  those  whom  God  has 
given  to  you.  But  your  story  has  awakened  a  train 
of  memories,  which,  had  they  never  been  retouched, 
would  have  gradually  faded  into  dusty  oblivion.  I 
dare  not  even  now,  until  I  have  had  time  to  collect  my 
thoughts,  and  consult  papers,  say  more  to  you,  but 
I  may  say  to  you.  I  believe  God  has  sent  you  to  me. 
Oh,  how  wonderful  are  his  ways  !" 

So  meaning  were  the  looks  of  the  priest,  and  so 
strange  his  words,  that  Ormond  felt  an  awe  which  he 
could  not  account  for  stealing  over  him,  and  a  thou 
sand  impressions  were  scattered  confusedly  through  his 
mind.  He  scarcely  knew  what  to  think,  but  one  ques 
tion  was  ever  foremost.  "  Has  he  ever  heard  of  Marie 
before  ?  Does  he  know  any  thing  of  the  history  of 
her  parents  ?" 

The  Prefect  remained  silent  a  few  moments  in  a 
musing  attitude  ;  then  looking  up,  he  said  : 

"  In  case  you  have  to  carry  into  effect  your  views 
regarding  the  emancipation,  it  will  be  simple.  There 
must  be  prepared  a  petition,  in  which  you  must  state 
your  wishes;  as  the  same  law  rules  here  that  is  in 
force  in  Louisiana.  When  this  is  presented  to  the 
judge,  and  there  is  no  opposition,  letters  of  manumis 
sion  are  granted.  There  will  be  a  delay  of  twenty 
days.  But,  my  son,  since  you  have  come  to  me,  I 
have  had  old  recollections  aroused,  and  it  may  be  that 
I  have  the  key  to  your  happiness  in  my  hands." 

Ormond  started.  "  Nay,  my  son !  be  not  too  san 
guine.  I  bid  you  not  even  to  hope ;  but  come  to  me 
at  twelve  the  day  after  to-morrow,  at  this  place,  and 
perchance,  I  may  be  the  means  of  giving  you  some 


174  THE    CREOLE 

joyful  tidings."  Ormond  arose;  lie  was  bewildered. 
The  words' of  the  venerable  man  had  excited  his  hopes ; 
and  he  wished,  he  hardly  knew  what ;  but  he  bade 
him  adieu  with  a  full  and  grateful  heart,  and  hastened 
to  rejoin  his  friends. 

To  Dr.  Grant  he  narrated  faithfully  all  the  circum 
stances  attending  his  interview. 

"  "Well,  Ormond,  something  will  come  of  it,  sure. 
I  am  glad  we  have  come." 

The  time  passed;  and,  on  the  appointed  day,  Or 
mond  found  himself  among  a  crowd  waiting  an  audi 
ence  at  the  Prefect's  palace.  He  was  expected ;  and 
as  soon  as  he  sent  his  card,  was  admitted  to  the 
presence  of  the  churchman.  He  received  him  with 
even  more  kindness  than  before  ;  and  smiled  benignly 
on  him  as  he  gave  him  his  blessing. 

After  the  usual  salutations  were  finished,  he  said — 
"It  is  as  I  expected,  and  I  am  able  to  be  the  bearer 
of  good  news ;  but  there  is  one  who  can  reply  more 
satisfactorily  to  your  questions  than  I  can."  He  arose, 
and  rang  a  small  bell  on  the  table.  A  lay  brother 
appeared.  "  Martin,"  he  said,  "  Father  Moiese." 

The  brother  left  the  apartment ;  and  in  a  few  mo 
ments  there  entered  a  person  whose  mild  and  noble 
countenance,  united  with  his  venerable  appearance, 
caused  Ormond  involuntarily  to  do  him. reverence. 
He  was  a  tall  and  aged  man,  whose  snowy  hair,  unlike 
the  clergy's  generally,  fell  over  his  shoulders  in  a  mass. 
His  eye  was  a  deep  blue,  and  beamed  peace  and  good 
will  to  all  men.  He  was  attired  in  the  common  dress 
of  the  order ;  and  was  indeed  an  imposing  and  holy- 
looking  man.  "  Father  Moiese,"  exclaimed  the  Pre 
fect,  as  he  presented  him  to  Ormond,  and  waved  him 
to  a  seat,  "this  is  the  gentleman  to  whom  your 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  175 

communication  must  be  made."  Then  turning  to 
Ormond,  lie  said;  " I  had  to  dispatch  a  messenger  to 
Father  Moiese,  who  is  a  parochial  priest,  and  lives 
about  thirty  miles  from  here;  and,  as  he  is  aged,  I 
appointed  this  day  for  you  to  meet  him  here." 

Ormond  expressed  his  deep  regret  that  he  had  been 
the  cause  of  giving  so  much  trouble  to  the  good  priest. 

"  I  would  do  much  more  to  serve  one  humbler  than 
you,  my  son,"  answered  the  old  man,  mildly. 

"  Proceed,  father !"  said  the  Prefect. 

"  I  was  sent  for  one  evening,"  commenced  the  priest, 
"  now  some  eight  years  ago,  to  receive  the  confession 
of  a  dying  woman,  a  Quadroon.  She  was  very  ill,  and 
wished  to  make  a  statement  to  me  in  a  matter  in 
which  she  had  been  concerned,  and  in  which  she 
thought  she  had  not  acted  altogether  right.  She  said 
that  she  had  been  the  attendant  and  friend  of  a  young 
French  officer  attached  to  the  ordinance  department 
of  Port-Koyal,  many  years  before.  His  name  was 
Horace  "St.  Medard.  During  his  residence  at  Port- 
Koyal,  he  had  fallen  in  love  with,  and  married  a  beau 
tiful  Creole  girl,  by  the  name  of  Marie  St.  Yalle.  They 
had  one  child,  whom  they  named  Marie,  after  her 
mother.  The  father  died  of  the  yellow  fever,  and  left 
to  his  widow  a  small  property.  The  widow,  whose 
marriage  had  been  private,  lived  very  retired;  and 
had  sent  her  child  to  Paris  to  be  educated  in  a  convent. 
She  was  young  when  she  left  home.  The  mother,  in 
a  few  years,  determined  to  make  Paris  her  home,  'as 
her  relatives  all  resided  in  France.  The  ship  in  which 
she  sailed  was  capsized  at  sea,  and  all  on  board 
perished.  Then  the  idea  first  occurred  to  the  woman 
(who  had  charge  of  the  property  in  Port-Koyal  until 
it  could  be  disposed  of)  to  send  for  the  young  Marie, 


176  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

claim  her  as  a  niece,  and  thus  retain  the  property  for 
her  own  use. 

"  The  plan  was  put  in  execution,  and  carried  out ; 
and,  upon  the  return  of  the  child,  then  some  ten  years 
old,  she  went  to  live  with  the  woman,  who  represented 
herself  as  her  aunt.  Things  remained  in  this  con 
dition  until  the  girl  had  grown  up  into  a  handsome 
woman,  when  she  was  persuaded  by  a  Captain  Ber 
wick  to  allow  the  girl  to  pay  a  visit,  with  his  wife  and 
himself,  to  his  estates  in  Jamaica.  She  agreed  to  it. 
They  sailed,  and  she  had  never  seen  them  more.  The 
woman,  who  really  loved  the  girl,  took  it  much  to 
heart,  and  when  she  did  not  return,  and  time  passed 
on,  sold  out  the  property  and  removed  into  the 
country.  She  was  taken  sick,  and  now,  on  her  death 
bed,  she  made  this  confession,  and  gave  into  my  keep 
ing  a  large  package  of  family  papers,  including  the 
marriage-certificate,  and  other  important  documents. 
The  woman  died,  but  I  had  the  precaution  to  send  for 
a  notary,  who  took  down  from  her  own  lips  the 
tale." 

During  this  recital,  Ormond  trembled  violently; 
cold  drops  of  perspiration  trickled  down  his  forehead ; 
he  gasped  for  breath ;  and  at  length  managed  to 
articulate,  as  he  looked  fervently  upward — 

"  Oh,  God !  I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  led  my 
footsteps  hither." 

"  That  is  right,  my  son,"  exclaimed  the  Prefect ; 
"  return  your  thanks  where  due — to  the  Almighty." 

Ormond  asked,  hesitatingly,  "  And,  good  father, 
have  you  these  papers  with  you?" 

"I  have,  my  son!"  he  answered;  as  he  drew  from 
his  breast  a  packet  of  yellow,  and  time-colored  paper, 
tied  with  a  black  ribbon. 


THE     CREOLE    ORPHANS.  177 

Ormond  reached  out  his  hands  to  grasp  them,  and 
pressed  them  convulsively,  as  if  fearful  of  letting  them 
escape.  With  a  trembling  hand  he  untied  the  string, 
and  behold !  before  him  were  the  evidences  of  his  hap 
piness.  Hastily  did  he  peruse  them.  The  certificate, 
deeds,  letters  to  Marie's  mother,  from  her  father. 
How  he  prized  them !  Marie's  mother,  oh,  delightful 
thought!  Her  mother!  That  connection  between 
the  past  and  present.  The  shame-spot  was  now  re 
moved  forever.  His  heart  was  light  already — happi 
ness  !  His  Marie  had  parents  to  whom  she  could  look 
back  without  shame — with  pride.  The  blot  on  his 
children's  name  could  now  be  removed  forever ;  there 
was  no  blood  in  their  veins  but  what  was  pure — no  at 
tainting  stream  to  poison  life  to  its  core.  The  two 
priests  gazed  on  him  with  interest,  as  these  conflicting 
feelings  made  themselves  visible  in  his  countenance. 
The  Prefect  again  rung  the  bell,  and  a  domestic  ap 
peared,  bearing  a  salver  and  wine.  He  pressed  Or 
mond  to  drink,  thinking  it  might  calm  his  agitation. 

"  Oh,  what  do  I  not  owe  you  both  1"  exclaimed  he, 
grasping  their  hands ;  "life  and  happiness,  all;  every 
thing  !  Can  I  repay  you  ?  take  my  fortune !  all,  and 
it  would  never  half  repay  you." 

' '  Father,"  he  continued,  ' c  do  you  leave  the  city  soon  1 " 

"  In  a  few  days,  my  son." 

"  Then  I  will  see  you  again ;  do  not  detain  me ;  I 
seek  those  who  wait  for  me,  never  dreaming  of  that 
immense  happiness  in  store  for  them !  Forgive  me  if 
I  go  now  ;  I  will  see  you  and  thank  you  when  I  am 
calmer.  I  go  now ;  bless  me  both." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  son !"  exclaimed  both  the 
priests,  as  they  laid  their  hands  on  his  head. 

Ormond  arose,  and  rushed  from  the  apartment, 
8* 


178  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Shall  we  follow  him  to  the  hotel  ?  Shall  we  attempt 
to  depict  Marie's  joy,  their  friends'  happiness?  Oh, 
no !  it  is  too  sacred,  we  will  not  attempt  it,  we  would 
miserably  fail ;  but  we  know  that  there  was  joy  too 
great,  happiness  too  great  for  utterance,  and  the  swol 
len  bosom  must — must  find  relief  in  tears ! 

It  was  several  days  before  Ormond  called  again  at 
the  Prefect's  palace.  He  was  received  as  usual  with 
kindness,  and  found  closeted  with  the  prelate  a  dis 
tinguished  avocat,  who  practiced  in  the  courts  of  the 
island.  He  was  a  vivacious  little  Frenchman,  and 
when  the  subject  of  Ormond's  visit  was  brought  up, 
he  entered  into  it  warmly. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said  to  Ormond,  "  I  would  advise 
you  to  effect  the  acknowledgment  of  your  children  in 
your  own  State;  it  would  effect  no  good  here,  and 
would  be  easier  of  reference." 

Father  Moiese  now  entered  the  room,  and  was 
greeted  by  Ormond  only  as  a  grateful  heart  can  feel. 

"There  is  one  thing,  monsieur,"  said  the  Prefect, 
"  you.  will  attend  to.  We  have  your  property  in 
charge,  which  is  the  rightful  inheritance  of  the  mother 
of  your  children  ;  the  Church  has  the  revenue,  and  is 
ready  at  once  to  relinquish  it.  You  will  find  she  has 
been  a  faithful  steward." 

"  I  am  grieved,"  replied  Ormond,  "  that  you  deem 
me  ungrateful  enough  to  take  it.  The  Church  must 
keep  it ;  my  circumstances  place  it  in  my  power  to  do 
this  without  any  injury  to  myself." 

At  first  it  was  rejected,  but  by  the  firm  refusal  of 
Ormond  to  receive  it,  they  agreed  that  the  Church 
should  be  the  recipient ;  and  it  was  arranged  that  the 
present  avocat  should  wait  upon  Marie  at  the  hotel,  to 
receive  her  renunciation  of  the  property. 


THE    CREOLE     OEPHANS.  179 

To  all  Ormond's  offers  to  the  good  old  Father  Moi- 
ese,  he  gave  a  firm  and  steady  yet  gentle  rejection, 
saying  that  he  had,  from  his  youth  upward,  devoted 
his  life  to  the  Church,  and  in  her  service  would  he  die. 
He,  however,  agreed  to  accept  some  small  present 
from  him  as  a  memorial  of  his  gratitude. 

It  was  on  the  second  day  after  Ormond  had  visited 
the  Prefect  that  the  agent  of  the  Chupch  called  at  the 
hotel,  and  received  a  warm  welcome  from  Ormond. 
He  advised  him  not  to  take  the  original  papers  away 
with  him ;  they  were  too  precious  to  be  risked  to  any 
casualty,  but  to  deposit  them  among  the  records  of 
the  court,  and  only  carry  away  copies  of  the  whole. 
He  eagerly  acted  upon  this  advice,  and  proceeded  to 
put  it  in  execution.  There  was  one  record,  however, 
which  he  determined  to  carry  away,  and  that  was  the 
record  of  his  marriage  ;  and  he  accordingly  called  upon 
the  Prefect,  and  preferred  his  request  that  he  would 
unite  Marie  and  himself  according  to  the  rules  of  the 
holy  Church.  Gladly,  willingly,  he  consented  to  per 
form  the  ceremony. 

The  next  evening  a  small  party  were  gathered  at 
the  Prefect's  own  chapel,  and  before  the  altar  he  joined 
the  hands  of  those  whose  hearts  had  been  so  long 
united. 

It  is  needless  to*  attempt  to  paint  the  extreme  joy 
which  swelled  the  heart  of  Marie,  and  the  manly  de 
light  of  Ormond,  as  he  drew  toward  him  an  ever- 
loved,  but  now  a  respected  and  cherished  wife.  Lan 
guage  is  inadequate  for  the  expression  of  such  feelings. 
Mrs.  Grant  participated  in  the  joy  of  her  friend,  and 
wept  upon  her  neck.  The  Doctor,  as  soon  as  they 
were  free  from  the  chapel,  swore  that  the  "wild-goose 
chase"  had  now  terminated  beautifully ;  and  that  al- 


180  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

belt  the  cooking  among  the  cannibals  was  not  exactly 
to  his  taste,  still  he  felt  many  times  repaid  for  risking 
his  precious  neck  in  foreign  parts.  Altogether,  it  was 
a  reunion  of  unalloyed  felicity. 

A  week  elapsed  ere  an  opportunity  presented  itself 
for  them  to  return  to  the  United  States ;  but  at  length 
a  brig  was  advertised  to  sail  for  Havana.  Calling 
upon  the  Prefect,  Ormond  expressed  in  feeling  terms 
his  gratitude,  and  placing  in  his  hands  a  sum  for  the 
benefit  of  his  charities,  received  his  blessing,  and  de 
parted. 

Securing  the  precious  package  of  papers  in  dupli 
cate  among  his  baggage,  he,  assisted  by  the  doctor, 
transferred  it  to  the  brig.  It  was  about  sundown 
when  the  party  left  the  land,  and  trusted  themselves 
to  the  billowy  deep. 

Upon  arriving  at  Havana  a  vessel  was  easily  found 
to  convey  them  home.  No  incident  occurred  during 
the  trip,  except  that  Mrs.  Grant  became  more  unwell 
as  they  approached  the  shores  of  Louisiana ;  and  as 
she  lay  in  her  berth,  or  reclined  on  deck,  kindly  at 
tended  by  Marie  with  all  a  sister's  love,  and  sympa 
thized  with  by  the  other  passengers,  her  wasted  cheek 
and  shrunken  form,  combined  with  her  general  lan 
guor,  filled  her  husband's  heart  with  a  fearful  agony. 
He  was  at  a  loss  what  course  to  pursue ;  he  was  con 
fident  that  her  lungs  were  diseased,  and  was  fearful 
that  the  affection  was  too  deeply  rooted  to  be  eradi 
cated.  This  filled  his  breast  with  an  indescribable 
emotion,  and  made  h*s  bold  heart  vibrate  with  sorrow. 
He  tenderly  loved  her,  and  the  thought  of  losing  her 
was  unendurable.  He  could  not  conceive  the  possi 
bility  of  her  being  snatched  away  in  the  bloom  of  life 
and  beauty;  then  sighed  as  he  noticed  the  brilliant 


THE  CREOLE!  ORPHANS.  181 

sparkle  of  her  eyes,  and  her  thin,  attenuated  hands ; 
and  heard  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night  that  sharp 
and  painful,  that  mournful  cough,  which  sometimes 
convulsed  her  system. 

It  was  again  evening ;  night  covered  with  her  dark 
mantle  the  heaving  sea,  and  the  gleaming  stars  were 
stealing  forth  in  beauty.  All  the  passengers  were 
gathered  on  deck. 

It  was  .midnight :  Ormond  and  Marie  were  standing 
at  the  tafrrail,  gazing  back  over  the  ocean,  and  then 
throwing  their  eyes  forward.  The  Balize  was  in 
sight. 

Dr.  Grant  was  leaning  over  a  seat,  on  which  reclined 
his  wife,  and  all  were  looking  eagerly  forward. 

What  a  thrill  of  joy  shoots  through  the  heart  as  the 
traveler,  weary  and  sore,  approaches  his  native  land ! 
"What  a  joy  pervades  his  frame  as  he  longs  to  claim 
his  heritage,  and  press  the  dear  soil  which  gave  him 
birth,  to  clasp  loved  friends  to  his  breast,  to  mingle  in 
old  familiar  scenes,  and  renew  old  and  loved  associa 
tions  ! 

Thus  Ormond  felt  as  he  stood  with  one  hand  of  his 
wife's  in  his  own,  gazing  steadfastly  over  the  water ; 
and  when  at  last  the  light,  that  beacon  of  hope  to  the 
heart  of  the  wave-tossed  mariner,  shot  its  trembling 
beams  across  the  face  of  the  restless  sea,  gleaming  at 
first  faintly,  and  then  more  strongly,  and  at  last  show 
ing  bright,  steady,  and  clear,  a  general  shout  of  glad 
ness  arose  from  all  around. 

"  My  dear  Marie,"  he  said,  drawing  her  closer, 
"  there  is  our  own  dear  land,  our  home,  greeting  us 
with  its  welcome  smile." 

She  replied  by  a  gentle  pressure  of  his  hand,  and  a 
tear  of  happiness. 


182  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Oh !  how  justly  proud  is  an  American  !  He  may 
visit  the  shores  of  the  Old  World,  hoary  and  venerable, 
renowned  for  the  ashes  of  the  past,  its  heroes,  its  ora 
tors,  and  its  statesmen ;  he  may  mingle  in  its  scenes 
of  splendor,  its  pageants,  and  its  pomps ;  he  may 
tread  the  classic  shores  of  Greece,  and  dream  among 
the  monuments  of  departed  ages ;  he  may  wander 
among  the  islands  of  the  Mediterranean,  or  be  sur 
rounded  with  the  luxuries  of  an  Oriental  cgurt ;  he 
may  tread  the  sands  of  Palestine,  and  visit  the  scenes 
sacred  to  Christianity ;  he  may  recline  among  the  olive 
groves  of  Italy,  and  under  its  bright  skies  drink  in  its 
intoxicating  inspiration  ;  he  may  stand  at  the  base  of 
the  Pyramids,  or  wander  among  the  ruins  of  the 
Acropolis ;  he  may  be  shaded  in  a  bower  of  love, 
among  spicy  islands,  where  every  breath  is  a  perfume, 
and  every  sigh  an  exhalation  of  pleasure  ;  where  the 
rose  blooms  always,  and  the  song  of  the  nightingale 
is  ever  heard ;  where  violet-colored  dreams  greet  his 
slumber,  and  every  thought  is  bliss;  but  still  he 
fondly  clings  to  the  memory  of  home — he  still  sighs 
for  the  proud  mountain  oak,  and  the  clear,  gushing 
spring,  where  the  trout  leaps  in  gladness,  and  the 
pure  mountain  breeze,  as  it  plays  in  the  tree-tops, 
whispers  of  "  Freedom."  He  still  sighs  for  that  holy 
land  of  liberty,  where  every  man  is  a  prince,  and 
which  is  shadowed  by  the  wing  of  God. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

"  Tentanda  via  ost." 

TI7"E  will  now  return  to  Mr.  Talbot,  whom  we  left 
**  conducting  the  espitolary  business  of  Colonel 
Ormond,  and  arranging  in  his  own  mind  matters  to 
suit  himself.  Things  had  not  at  all  changed  in  any 
respect,  save  the  advance  of  the  season.  The  rolling 
time  was  over,  and  the  levee  was  crowded  with  the 
sweets  of  a  year  of  labor. 

Talbot  had  made  some  new  acquaintances ;  he  had 
hunted,  and  fished,  and  rode,  attended  parties,  and  in 
all  respects  enjoyed  himself;  but  he  still  nourished 
in  his  own  heart  those  evil  passions  which  make  man's 
nature  akin  to  the  fiend. 

He  had  never  heard  from  Stamps,  and  felt  anxious 
to  receive  a  letter  from  him ;  for  he  had  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  a  feeless  lawyer,  who,  on  ascertaining 
that  he  was  the  relation  of  Colonel  Ormond,  tried  to 
cultivate  his  friendship,  in  the  hope" that  "something 
would  turn  up ;"  for  he  learned  tjie  circumstances  of 
Ormond's  life;  and  he  had  planted  a  hope  in  the 
bosom  of  Talbot  which  haunted  his  pillow  nightly 
after. 

One  evening,  as  he  was  sitting  in  the  gallery,  tired, 
and  covered  with  dust  from  a  long  ride,  old  Pierre 


184  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

came  up  the  road,  and  gave  him  a  letter  from  the  post- 
office. 

He  glanced  at  the  direction,  and  hastily  put  it  in 
his  pocket.  He  knew  the  hand :  it  was  from  his  boy 
hood's  friend — the  tool  he  intended  to  use.  It  was 
from  Stamps. 

As  soon  as  Pierre  had  gone,  with  his  chatter  and 
his  offensive  familiarity,  he  stole  to  his  chamber,  and 
then,  locking  the  door,  hastily  tore  open  the  letter.  It 
ran  thus : 

"  NEW  TOEK,  January  3,  18—. 

"My  DEAR  TOLLY — 

"You  can  not  imagine  the  delight  the  reception 
ol  your  letter  gave  me.  I  had  gone  to  the  post-office 
many  times,  and,  after  being  often  disappointed,  yours 
was  put  into  my  hands.  I  devoured  its  contents.  You 
are  a  lucky  fellow,  Tolly  ;  and  I  am  afraid  your  letter 
has  run  me  crazy.  It  has  made  me  very  absent  lately, 
and  I  do  a  great  many  things  to  be  laughed  at.  The 
first  day  after  I  got  it,  I  thought  of  nothing  else.  Old 
Mrs.  Snap,  our  landlady,  who  has  not  improved  in 
disposition  since  you  left,  asked  me, 

"  c  Will  you  have  coffee  or  tea,  sir?' 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,  and  the  pretty  Southern 
girls,  and  says  I,  '  Creole,  if  you  please,  ma'am.' 

"  '  Creole,  sir  ?r  says"  she,  as  sharp  as  a  broken  vine 
gar-bottle.  *  What  do  you  mean  by  talking  about  them 
niggers  here  ?' 

"  I  blushed  up,  and  was  scared  to  death ;  but  I  got 
off  by  making  an  excuse. 

"  But  now  I  have  got  to  tell  you  some  thing  worse 
than  that.  Tolly,  I  have  lost  my  place.  The  way  of 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  185 

it  was  this  : — The  other  evening,  as  I  was  carrying  a 
bundle  around  to  a  customer,  I  noticed  on  a  theater- 
bill,  in  the  biggest  kind  of  letters,  a  play  for  that 
night,  called,  *  The  Yankee  in  India  ;  or,  The  Way  to 
make  a  Fortune.'  The  title  struck  me,  and  I  deter 
mined  to  see  it.  I  went  into  the  pit,  and  it  was  first- 
rate.  But  the  next  day  old  Hunks  heard  of  it ;  so  he 
called  me  up  and  gave  me  a  lecture.  I  thought  of  you 
and  your  freedom,  and,  as  he  said  a  lot  of  hard  things,  I 
just  politely  told  him  to  go  to  blue  ruin,  and  that  I  could 
do  very  well  without  him.  I  told  him  you  had  gone 
to  Louisiana,  and  had  a  big  sugar  plantation,  and  lots 
of  niggers ;  and  that  I  would  go  and  see  you.  He 
looked  astonished ;  but  then  he  called  me  an  imper 
tinent  beggar,  and  ordered  the  book-keeper  to  make 
out  my  account,  and  pay  me  off.  I  felt  like  whipping 
him,  but  left  without  saying  much. 

"  And  this,  Tolly,  is  the  way  I  lost  it.  Maybe  I  was 
a  fool,  and  maybe  I  was  n't.  I  have  got  some  money, 
but  not  more  than  enough  to  support  me  till  I  get  a 
situation.  Tolly,  now,  my  old  boy !  fly  around,  and 
try  and  look  for  a  place  for  me  by  the  time  I  get 
there,  for  I  am  coming,  sure.  I  have  not  fixed  the 
time  yet,  but  expect  to  get  a  little  more  money  soon, 
and  then  I  will  be  with  you. 

"  I  remain,  your  friend,  as  ever, 

"W.  STAMPS." 

"  Senseless  fool  I"  exclaimed  Talbot,  when  he  had 
finished  reading  it.  ie  To  act  in  this  manner ;  to  throw 
away  a  certainty  for  an  uncertainty !  but  I  think,  may 
be  I  may  have  a  use  for  him,  though  I  fear  he  will  be 
a  dead  weight  on  me  :  and  I  want  to  ride  light  when 


186  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

I  do  begin  the  race.  And  so  I  may  expect  him  daily  ? 
Well,  I  wish,  Ormond  would  come.  He  must  like  to 
spend  money  on  his  lady.  Ha,  ha !  But  he  can  af 
ford  it." 

Here  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  slowly  left  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AN  a  calm  and  pleasant  evening,  a  party  consisting 
^  of  Ormond  and  Marie,  Dr.  Grant  and  his  wife, 
stood  upon  the  guards  of  a  steamer  as  she  was  nearing 
the  old  homestead.  There  were  the  old  house  with  its 
ancient  pointed  roof,  and  its  wide  galleries,  the  live 
oak-trees  waving  their  gnarled  branches  in  the  air  as 
if  in  welcome,  and  the  tall  chimneys  of  the  s1'  ~ 
house  in  the  distance.  There  were  the 
the  orange,  and  the  still  darke" "" 
evergreens  in  the  lawn, 
to  trill  forth  their  > 
home.  Oh,  how  . " 
Marie  now,  as/ 
How  differ 
a  loved 
was  r>- 


188  THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS. 

there — oh,  joy !  she  found  on  her  boudoir-table  several 
letters.     Ah!   they   were  ship-letters!  and  one  from 
Madame  Civalle.     And  there  was  one  in  Zoe's  sweet 
little  hand.     Eagerly  she  tore  them  open,  and  drank 
in  with  all  a  mother's  fond  love  the  happy  intelligence 
that  all  were  well ;  the  feeling  of  the  soul  poured  out 
in  all  the  pure  simplicity  of  childhood,  the  sea,  its 
wonders,  the  strange  sights  and  sounds,  all  found  a 
place.     They  were  written  at  sea,  and  sent  home  by  a 
return  packet.     How  she  wept  and  smiled,  and  wept 
and  kissed  again  and  again  those  dear  lines  which 
those  sweet  fingers  had  penned.     Ormond  joined  in 
•oleasure,  and  their  kind  friends.     There  was  one 
'•^  detracted  from  their  pleasure :  it  was  this, 
""•as  found  another  letter  :  it  was 
^a  compelled  a  few  days 
North  on  business 
Hed  with  a  large 
'i  New  York; 
on  this 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  189 

her ;  but  when  she  remembered  how  firmly  she  was 
united  to  Ormond,  and  that  she  was  now  beyond  the 
reach  of  any  contingency,  she  tried  to  banish  all  those 
feelings,  and  remembered  the  prophecy  of  old  Celeste 
only  as  an  idle  dream. 

Talbot  placed  in  his  patron's  hands  all  the  corre 
spondence  which  had  arrived  during  his  absence.  He 
now  informed  him  of  his  desire  to  take  charge  of.  the 
situation  secured  by  him.  Ormond  agreed  to  it,  kind 
ly  supplied  him  with  letters  to  his  friends,  and  a  sum 
of  money.  He  departed,  and  in  the  course  of  a  week 
a  letter  from  him  informed  them  that  he  had  entered 
the  house,  and  was  settled,  at  the  same  time  thanking 
them  for  their  kindness  and  hospitality. 

Thus  we  leave  our  characters  at  this  period.  The 
family  of  Colonel  Ormond  resided  now  wholly  at  the 
plantation.  At  Marie's  desire  the  residence  in  the  city 
was  broken  up,  and  the  property  offered  for  sale.  He 
contracted  his  business,  and  devoted  himself  wholly  to 
the  improvement  of  his  estate,  and  contributing  to  the 
happiness  of  his  slaves.  Marie  was  received  in  the 
neighborhood  as  an  equal,  although  it  was  not  known 
even  that  she  was  wedded ;  but  the  example  of  Mrs. 
Grant  was  speedily  followed,  and  she  was  a  welcome 
guest  every  where.  So  much  for  breaking  down  the 
barriers  of  custom.  This  notice  of  her  by  Mrs.  Grant 
created  a  revulsion  in  her  favor,  and  courtesies  were 
showered  on  her  on  every  side.  It  was  not  surmised 
that  the  journey  the  party  had  taken  was  other  than 
for  the  benefit  of  the  health  of  Mrs.  Grant.  Ormond 
had  never  mentioned  the  matter  to  any  one,  not  even 
to  Talbot,  and  the  public  were  as  ignorant  of  it  as 
ever.  Mrs.  Grant's  health  now  so  sensibly  declined, 


190  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

that  by  the  best  medical 'advices  Dr.  Grant  concluded  to 
try  the  restorative  influence  of  the  air  of  Italy  upon  her 
enervated  frame,  but  with  an  almost  hopeless  view  of 
the  case.  She  had  become  much  weaker ;  the  bloom 
on  her  cheeks  was  the  hot  flush  of  fever,  and  the 
brilliancy  of  her  eyes  was  the  sparkle  of  disease.  He 
sailed  immediately. 

Letters  were  received  from  Zoe  and  Estelle.  They 
were  much  pleased  with  their  situation,  but  longed 
again  to  be  fondly  pressed  to  their  mother's  breast,  to 
share  their  father's  joy,  and  be  safely  sheltered  in  the 
circle  of  domestic  love.  They  longed  again  to  hear 
the  gentle  evening  breeze  rustling  the  leaves  of  the 
orange  boughs,  and  to  recall  those  delightful  moments 
now  remembered  as  the  fleeting  dreams  of  love  and 
youth. 

Marie  felt  lonely  and  sad  when  Ormond  was  absent ; 
she  sat  by  the  solitary  hearth  and  wept  as  she  thought 
of  her  bright-eyed  ones  so  far  away  from  home,  and 
the  shadow  of  departed  hours  hung  gloomily  over  her 

soul. 

• 

"  Come  home  I — There  is  a  sorrowing  breath 
In  music  since  ye  went, 
And  the  early  flower-scents  wander  by 
With  mournful  memories  blent ; 
The  tones  in  every  household  voice 
Are  grown  more  sad  and  deep, 
And  sweet  words  wake  a  wish 
To  turn  aside  and  weep." 

• 
Although  Ormond  had  married  the  mother  of  his 

children,  there  was  one  act  still  to  be  performed :  it 
was  to  legitimate  his  children ;  and  for  this  purpose  he 
went  to  New  Orleans.  His  friend  Mr.  Bland  was  at 


THE    CREOLE^  ORPHANS.  191 

home,  and  to  him  he  applied.  He  accomplished  his 
wishes  to  his  satisfaction,  but  strange  to  say,  neglected 
to  mention  a  word  to  him  of  his  actions  in  the  island 
of  Martinique. 

He  returned  home,  feeling  now  that  he  had  forever 
secured  the  safety  of  his  children,  should  he  be  called 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


••  Death  !  thou  hast  had  thy  harvest! 
***** 

We  can  but  mourn — for  thou  hast  gathered  in 
The  brightest  and  most  beautiful  below." 

OALLAQHKB. 


GEVERAL  months  passed,  and  the  buds  of  spring 
^  had  given  way  to  the  flowers  of  summer,  with  its 
balmy  air,  and  birds,  and  sunshine. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  grief  that  letters 
were  received  from  Dr.  Grant,  announcing  the  slow, 
but  sure  decline  of  his  wife.  Sometimes  they  would 
come  to  Ormond,  and  frequently  to  Herndon,  whose 
overseer  would  at  once,  on  seeing  a  foreign  post-mark, 
send  them  over  to  Ormond.  Dr.  Grant  was  in  Flo 
rence,  with  a  soul  bowed  down  with  grief.  He  saw 
that  the  disease  was  too  deeply  rooted  to  be  eradicated 
— it  was  beyond  the  leech's  art,  and  laughed  at  the 
impotent  attempts  of  medicine  to  conquer  it.  He 
remained  by  her  side,  cheering  her  by  his  devoted 
love  and  assiduous  attention,  and  anticipating  her 
slightest  wish.  But  he  could  not  save  her — she  was 
sinking.  The  pearly  luster  of  her  eye,  her  restless 
nights  and  days  of  pain,  the  death-like  cough  and 
transparent  hand,  too  surely  told  that  the  fair  brow 
would  soon  be  bathed  in  the  dews  of  death ;  that  those 


THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS.  193 

bright  orbs  would  soon  be  closed  in  dissolution  ;  that 
tongue,  now  uttering  tones  of  melody,  would  be 
palsied ;  and  that  once  damask  cheek  and  lovely  form 
be  resolved  into  the  dust  from  whence  it  came. 

He  strove  to  cheer  her  drooping  spirits,  and  to  instill 
into  her  soul  the  hope  of  a  future  happiness.  He 
knew  her  goodness,  and  had  no  fear  for  her  when  she 
came  into  the  spirit-land.  But  he  strove  to  smooth 
her  passage  to  the  grave.  He  had  at  first  tried  to 
hope ;  but  now  his  deep  professional  knowledge  told 
him  that  she  had  been  marked ;  that  a  great  and  fear 
ful  change  would  soon  take  place,  and  that  he  must 
hope  no  more.  Still  he  traveled.  He  visited  the 
"  Holy  City ;"  then  wended  his  way  to  Naples,  to 
Venice,  to  Messalina,  to  Greece.  But  the  blue  skies 
of  Italy,  bright  as  an  angel's  dream ;  the  breath  of  the 
orange-groves  of  Sicily  ;  nor  the  flowery  fields  of  the 
Ionian  Isles,  could  save  the  withering  blossoms  of 
beauty.  Like  a  rare  exotic  transplanted  to  a  colder 
clime,  it  faded,  and  withered,  and  died. 

"  Poor,  poor  fellow  !"  feelingly  exclaimed  Ormond, 
as  he  read  one  of  Grant's  desponding  letters,  and  the 
great  tears*  stood  in  his  eyes ;  "  he  is  unhappy ;  he  is 
far,  far  away  from  loved  friends  and  home ;  heartless 
strangers  surround  him ;  he  is  buried  in  sorrow,  and 
oh,  poor  Caroline !"  Here  he  clinched  his  hands  in 
a  convulsive  manner,  then  raising  his  eyes  to  Heaven, 
fervently  said — 

"  Oh,  God!  if  it  be  possible— if  it  be  thy  will—let 
this  bitter  cup  be  spared  him  !" 

It  was  on  a  calm  Sabbath  morning  that  Ormond  sat 
in  the  gallery  ;  it  was  peaceful  and  serene,  not  a  cloud 
floated  across  the  blue  fields  of  heaven ;  the  air  came 

9 


194  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

softly  to  the  cheek,  and  all  was  at  rest.  His  thoughts 
were  with  his  friend,  in  that  far  off  clime ;  and  his 
prayers  were  for  the  idolized  Caroline.  Suddenly  his 
attention  was  drawn  to  the  sound  of  horse's  feet — he 
looked  up — it  was  Herndon's  overseer  riding  toward 
the  house.  An  ill-defined  feeling  of  alarm  and  dis 
quiet  pervaded  his  breast — he  felt  that  he  was  the 
bearer  of  bad  news.  He  entered  the  gallery ;  gloom 
was  upon  his  brow,  and  sadness  in  his  eye.  Ormond 
now  felt,  as  he  pointed  to  a  seat,  that  his  prophetic  heart 
was  right.  There  was  a  terrible  something  to  be 
divulged,  and  he  shrunk  from  meeting  the  sorrowful 
truth.  The  overseer  handed  him  a  letter — it  was 
sealed  with  black.  As  he  held  it  out  to  Ormond,  he 
shrunk  back;  a  strange  feeling  of  horror  thrilled 
through  his  veins ;  it  was  like  a  dreadful  night-mare  ; 
he  could  not  shake  it  off.  It  possessed  a  strange  fasci 
nation — that  death-sealed  letter ;  but  he  took  it ;  he 
broke  the  seal.  "  It  is  all  over !"  he  exclaimed  in  feel 
ing  accents,  and  uttering  a  deep  groan,  pressed  his 
hands  to  his  eyes,  then  slowly  read  it  through  with  a 
sad  interest.  Here  it  is : 


"  GENOA,  June  14, 

HERNDON, 

"  You  can  not  conceive  with  what  feeling  I  now 
sit  down  to  write  you.  The  last  sad  blow  has  been 
struck,  and  my  Caroline  is  lost  forever  to  me.  Oh, 
my  friend!  if  you  knew  my  sufferings.  Sad  and 
desolate,  with  not  a  friend!  alone!  Oh,  Herndon! 
may  you  never  know  the  full  meaning  of  that  word. 
The  misery  of  a  lifetime  has  been  concentrated  in  a 
few  days. 


THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS.  195 

"  On  Thursday  night,  about  eleven  o'clock,  Caroline, 
who  had  been  gradually  declining,  seemed  more  lively 
than  had  been  her  wont;  and  I  had  lain  down  to 
snatch  a  moment's  repose  before  an  open  window.  I 
was  dreaming  of  home  and  happiness.  Oh,  cruel 
vision !  Suddenly  I  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
the  rustle  of  the  curtain  of  her  bed;  my  senses  being,  by 
continual  anxiety  and  watching,  preternaturally  acute ; 
I  hastily  arose ;  the  light  had  burned  out ;  I  called, 
there  was  no  answer  I  Alarmed,  I  lit  the  lamp.  I 
rushed  to  the  bed,  reproaching  myself  for  my  selfish 
ness,  while  she  might  be  suffering.  But,  oh,  Heaven ! 
how  shall  I  describe  my  horror ! !  She  had  raised 
herself,  and  her  head  was  hanging  over  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  with  her  long  dark  hair  in  tangled  masses 
reaching  the  floor,  and  soaked  with  blood !  She  was  in 
the  agonies  of  death.  She  had  been  seized  with  a  fit 
of  coughing,  an  artery  had  been  ruptured,  and  her 
white  clothes  and  pillow  were  covered  with  bright  blood. 
How  I  survived  that  shock  I  know  not.  I  raised  her 
up.  She  smiled  faintly — her  dying  eyes  brightened — • 
her  lips  tried  to  pronounce  my  name;  and  her  last 
pure  sigh  was  wafted  to  its  native  Heaven.  I — 

"  But  I  shall  go  mad  !  I  laid  her  in  the  ground — I 
can  not  weep  !  I  care  not  for  life !  Oh,  for  you  !  for 
Ormond  and  his  gentle  wife  to  be  with  me  ! 

"  I  leave  here  to-morrow,  for  I  know  not  where ; 
but  I  will  roam  the  world — it  is  now  a  vast  sepulcher 
to  me.  I  will  seek  the -desert,  and  my  cry  will  answer 
the  howl  of  the  hyena.  I  know  not  when  you  will 
see  me,  but  if  I  survive  this  shock  I  will  meet  you 
again. 

"  There  is  a  lock  of  hair.    I  send  it  at  the  request  of 


196  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

my  lost  Caroline,  to  Marie !  Tell  her  that  her  poor 
friend  sleeps  in  a  citron-grove,  where  the  air  is  balmy, 
but  the  tear  of  friendship  does  not  water  her  resting- 
place. 

u  Your  unhappy  friend, 

.      "  GRANT." 

The  tears  chased  each  other  down  the  cheeks  of 
Ormond  as  he  read  this  record  of  grief.  He  grasped 
the  lock  of  dark  hair  contained  in  the  letter,  and  left 
the  gallery  to  seek  Marie,  and  mingle  his  grief  with  her's. 

It  was  a  Sabbath  day  in  New  Orleans;  the  bells 
rung  out  the  holy  invitation  for  all  to  enter  the  house 
of  God.  Multitudes  passed  along  the  street ;  the  mer 
chant,  wending  his  way  to  the  more  frequented  parts 
of  the  city,  to  learn  the  news ;  the  clerks,  to  dispose 
of  a  day  of  relaxation  from  business.  Here  was  the 
stranger  from  the  North,  with  his  fine,  fresh  counte 
nance  ;  and  there  the  Southern  gentleman,  returning 
home  from  abroad.  Here  plodded  a  stolid  old  Dutch 
man,  on  his  way  to  mass ;  and  immediately  behind 
tripped  the  smart  Irish  servant  girl,  bound  on  the 
same  errand.  On  the  other  side  of  the  street  you  see 
a  young  Hibernian,  who,  just  promoted  to  a  new  dray 
and  horse,  comes  out  in  all  the  glory  of  stove-pipe 
hat  and  blue  cloth,  and  is  throwing  the  most  exquisite 
glances  toward  the  aforesaid  servant-girl  from  his 
pea-green  eyes.  Here  is  a  Creole  of  Jerusalem,  who  is 
making  mental  calculations  of  what  his  stock  of  second 
hand  goods  bought  the  day  previous  at  auction  will 
bring;  and  behind  him  is  a  Christian,  whose  thoughts 
are,  for  this  day  at  least,  not  upon  things  of  this 
world. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  197 

There  are  many  other  parties  we  might  point  out : 
the  fast  cotton  planter,  who  having  just  got  through 
the  bottom  dollar  of  his  crop,  and  the  last  one  his  mer 
chant  would  bleed,  is  now  about  to  leave  on  the  Sun 
day  packet  for  the  coasi  and  the  little  towns  above ; 
but  he  is  happy,  for  he  has  already  got  acceptances 
enough  to  more  than  cover  his  next  crop.  Oh,  rare 
economy !  There  is  a  sugar-planter,  who  has  just 
paid  his  bill  at  the  hotel ;  he  is  going  up  on  the  same 
boat.  He  is  now  on  his  way  to  the  livery  stable,  to 
order  shipped  a  pair  of  fast  ponies  he  purchased  the 
day  before ;  but  he  is  also  happy,  for  his  plantation  is 
well  protected,  being  covered  a  foot  deep  with  mort 
gages.  Among  this  crowd  might  be  observed,  engaged 
in  earnest  conversation  as  they  slowly  walked  along, 
two  young  men.  One  is  our  acquaintance  Talbot, 
and  the  other,  by  his  gaze  of  curiosity  around,  seemed 
to  be  a  stranger.  He  was  of  a  heavy -built  form,  with 
dark  hair,  and  seemed  to  have  a  not  unhandsome 
countenance,  as  he  laughed  and  smiled,  and  appeared 
to  be  highly  pleased. 

Talbot  was  acting  as  conductor  to  his  friend.  He 
has  determined  to  launch  out  that  day,  and  impress 
Stamps  (for  it  was  he)  with  an  idea  of  his  importance, 
and  to  treat  him  to  a  dinner  at  a  fashionable  restau 
rant.  A  word  here  about  Talbot,  however.  Upon 
his  arrival  in  New  Orleans,  he  was  well  received, 
through  the  influence  of  the  letters  of  Colonel  Ormond, 
and  entered  upon  his  duties  in  the  house.  Here  he 
had  remained  ever  since.  He  had  not  risen  in  rank 
or  salary.  He  was  secretly  disliked,  although  no 
charge  could  be  brought  against  him,  and  was  thought 
to  be  a  coward,  in  consequence  of  his  refusing  to  ac- 


198  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

cept  a  challenge  sent  %  a  fellow-clerk  for  an  alleged 
insult:  he  preferred  making  an  apology.  He  was 
never  fully  trusted.  It  was  about  this  time  that  he 
succeeded  in  obtaining  for  Stamps  a  situation  in  an 
other  house  upon  his  arrival.  Stamps  had  reached 
New  Orleans  the  evening  before,  and  lost  no  time  in 
calling  upon  his  friend,  with  whose  address  he  had 
been  previously  furnished.  And  now  we  find  them 
on  this  day  resuming  their  habits  of  former  days. 

"Well,  Stamps,"  observed  Talbot,  "we  are  at  last 
again  together,  and  in  the  South." 

"Yes,  Tolly,  my  boy !"  replied  he ;  "here  we  are; 
and  I  am  as  delighted  as  a  dog  with  two  tails  to  be 
with  you.  I  have  longed  and  sighed  for  this  time 
again  and  again." 

"  Well,  Billy,  I  think  we  will  make  something  out 
of  it  yet.  I  only  wish  I  could  take  you  right  away  to 
Ormond's  plantation ;  it  would  be  a  great  deal  easier 
than  clerking,  and  I  never  did  and  never  will  like  it, 
and  this  thing  of  being  hired  to  go  and  come,  like  a 
'  fetch-and-carry'  spaniel.  Billy,  when  I  see  the  lordly 
planters  come  into  our  office,  smoking  their  fine  cigars, 
and  see  them  strut  about  and  call  for  their  supplies, 
and  get  a  big  check  on  the  bank  to  go  and  frolic  on ; 
and  when  I  see  the  airs  of  arrogance  they  assume,  I 
hate  the  race,  and  wish  I  had  never  been  brought  into 
contact  with  them;  it  recalls  my  own  situation  too 
forcibly.  But,  heigho!  Billy,  I  know  you  are  not 
afraid  of  the  devil,  and  you  know  that  no  one  can 
match  me  plotting." 

"I  know  that,  Tolly;  and  I  always  thought  you 
were  cut  out  for  a  great  man." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  199 

"  Thank  you,  Billy.  If  I  do,  you  shall  share  the 
glory ;  for  you  will  assist  me  to  raise  our  fortunes." 

11  All  you  have  got  to  do  is  to  tell  me  what  to  do, 
Tolly,  and  if  it  is  to  pull  the  old  un's  horns  off,  I  will 
try.  I  will  do  any  thing  for  you." 

"  And  I  for  you,  Billy.  I  am  not  as  scary  as  I  used 
to  be ;  I  have  fought  a  duel  since  I  have  been  here." 

"The  devil  you  have,  Tolly  I"  exclaimed  the  grati 
fied  fellow,  gazing  at  him  in  admiration.  "  Hurrah 
for  you !  The  fact  is,  that  is  the  only  objection  I  ever 
had  to  you.  I  thought  you  were  not  as  brave  as  two 
men  ought  to  be." 

"Oh,  pshaw!  that  was  policy,  Billy — policy,  sir." 

""Well,  have  you  got  up  any  scheme,  Tolly,  by 
which  we  can  make  a  raise?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  golden  idea;  but  it  is  too  new  yet, 
and  I  must  bide  my  time.  I  must  have  patience  and 
perseverance." 

"Yes,  for  the  Bible  says,  'Patience  and  soft  soap 
will  thread  a  cambric  needle  with  a  cable.'  " 

"  That 's  a  wrong  quotation,  Billy." 

"  Is  it?  "Well  I  do  not  know,  I  have  not  read  the 
Bible  through  very  often.  But  what  is  the  specula 
tion  that  promises  so  much?" 

"  I  will  make  a  quotation,  Billy.  '  The  right  hand 
should  never  know  what  the  left  doeth.'  And  it  is 
not  worth  while  to  say  any  thing  about  it  until  the 
time  comes,  for  come  it  will  some  of  these  days." 

"  "Well,  I  suppose  you  know,  Tolly ;  and  you  know 
when  it  is  time  to  strike  I  'm  on  hand." 

"Yes,  Billy,  my  Mend,"  replied  he,  turning  and 
grasping  Stamps  by  the  hand.  "And  to  show  you 
that  I  have  confidence  in  you,  I  will  say  that  at  the 


200  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

death  of  a  relation,  with  a  little  figuring,  I  will  come 
into  possession  of  a  fine  sugar-plantation  and  a  mint 
of  niggers." 

"  Oh  I  don't  I  wish  the  time  would  come.  Lord,  I 
would  lay  in  bed  till  ten  o'clock  every  day,  and  I 
would  have  a  nigger  to  even  pull  my  eyes  open.  But 
I  thought  you  used  to  be  the  strongest  kind  of  an 
abolitionist?" 

"  Yes,  so  I  was;  but  it  was  fashionable.  That  was 
policy  also.  I  am  a  slavery  man  now." 

"  There  is  one  thing  certain,  Tolly,  and  that  is  that 
I  would  like  mightily  to  own  some  of  them." 

"They  are  very  convenient,  Billy,  I  assure  you; 
and  this  speculation  of  mine,  provided  every  thing  re 
mains  as  it  does  now,  will  embrace  a  Isfrge  number." 

"  I  wish  it  was  time  to  go  into  it  now." 

"  Never  mind,  the  fruit  will  get  ripe  and  fall  of  its 
own  accord  in  time." 

In  such  conversations  as  these,  and  an  occasional 
reference  to  old  times,  the  two  reunited  friends  whiled 
away  the  morning.  Down  by  the  State-house  and 
Hospital  to  the  Catholic  cemetery,  and  into  the 
French  portion  of  the  city  to  the  Place  d'Armes,  they 
turned  and  finally  brought  up  at  the  door  of  a  cele 
brated  restaurant. 

Soon  they  were  seated  at  its  plenteous  board,  and 
the  heart  and  purse  of  Talbot  opened  generously.  A 
splendid  dinner,  with  fine  wines,  cheered  the  palate  of 
Stamps,  who  was  not  habituated  to  discuss  and  pro 
nounce  upon  the  gastronomic  wonders  placed  before 
him. 

That  night  Stamps  was  introduced  into  the  theatre, 
to  his  great  delight. 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  201 

The  situation  of  clerk  was  still  open  in  the  house, 
and  Stamps  entered  it.  The  salary  was  small,  but  suf 
ficient  for  his  wants  ;  and  he  might  have  been  happy 
and  contented,  had  it  not  been  for  his  wily  friend, 
who  was  tutoring  him  for  his  own  use. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  a  sister  of  Talbot's  had 
been  betrayed,  and  decoyed  away  from  her  home, 
while  he  was  a  youth.  He  had  heard  by  a  friend  in 
New  York  that  his  sister  was  in  New  Orleans,  and 
was  pursuing  a  course  of  infamy.  He  had  inquired, 
and  found  no  clew  to  her. 


9* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


«*  With  her  white  hands  folded  gently, 

Upon  her  pulseless  breast, 
And  a  snowy  shroud  around  her, 
We  laid  her  there  to  rest." 


TT  is  hard  to  leave  the  scenes  of  love  and  friendship, 
•*•  and  even  the  records  of  uninteresting  events, 
where  there  are  some  soft,  soothing  and  refined  pass 
ages  in  life ;  but  it  is  more  terrible  still  to  pass  to 
scenes  of  death,  where  agony  is  triumphant,  to  watch 
the  ebbing  pulse,  the  heaving  bosom,  and  glazing  eye. 
Upon  the  receipt  of  the  intelligence  of  the  death  of 
poor  Mrs.  Grant,  the  grief  of  Marie  was  overwhelm 
ing.  For  many  days  she  refused  to  be  comforted. 
Ormond  begged  and  pleaded  with  her,  to  moderate 
her  grief,  to  calm  her  emotions.  He  proposed  to  her 
a  short  trip  of  pleasure ;  to  which  she  assented,  as  it 
was  his  wish.  He  thought  a  change  of  scene  might 
obliterate  the  images  of  sadness  with  which  her  heart 
was  peopled,  or  at  least  moderate  the  intensity  of 
thought,  and  recall  to  her  cheeks  a  portion  of  that 
bloom  they  once  wore  and  the  smile  to  her  lips.  They 
accordingly  set  out.  He  exhausted  the  rounds  of  pleas 
ure  for  her.  From  place  to  plate  they  fled,  leaving 
thought  behind  them ;  and,  later  in  the  season,  he  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  recover  a  portion  of  tha.t 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  203 

cheerfulness  she  once  possessed,  and  then  they  bent 
their  steps  toward  home. 

The  pestilence  was  abroad  in  its  fury ;  the  city  was 
in  mourning.  Many  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  the 
land  had  been  taken  off  in  their  prime.  Consterna 
tion  and  horror  prevailed.  Hundreds  of  those  who 
were  in  health,  and  had  fondly  dreamed  that  they 
were  spared,  the  next  sunset  saw  shrouded ;  and  still 
it  called  for  its  hecatombs  of  victims.  Medical  science 
stood  appalled  and  aghast  at  its  own  impotency,  and 
that  of  the  most  powerful  drugs,  to  combat  the  fearful 
disease  ;  and  the  victim  was  shut  out  from  the  aid  and 
sympathy  of  his  fellow-men.  There  were  then  no  be 
nevolent  institutions,  formed  to  relieve  and  succor  the 
destitute  sick,  and  perform  the  last  sad  offices  for  the 
stranger.  The  dead-cart  alone  rumbled  along  the 
streets,  the  death-bell  came  booming  sullenly  and  sol 
emnly,  and  mingled  with  the  melancholy  cry  of 
"  Bring  out  your  dead !"  and  seemed  like  the  knell 
of  despair,  as  it  was  rung  through  the  midnight  streets, 
creating  horror  and  agony  in  those  who  had  thus  far 
escaped.  All  who  could  go,  were  gone;  and  those 
who  remained,  staid  behind  to  battle  with  disease 'and 
death.  The  grave-digger  could  not  perform  his  office 
fast  enough  ;  and  gold  was  showered  liberally  among 
the  hardy  laborers,  to  induce  them  to  remain,  and 
cover  the  bloated  and  putrefying  corpses  that  came 
pouring  in. 

At  such  a  time  as  this,  Ormond  and  Marie  arrived 
in  New  Orleans,  on  their  return  home';  and  Marie  was 
attacked  with  the  fever.  In  the  airy  chamber  of  a 
large  hotel,  sat  the  faithful  Ormond,  by  the  bedside  of 
the  fever-stricken  patient.  It  was  the  seventh  day 


204:  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

from  the  first  attack  ;  and  the  case  was  unusually  se 
vere,  and  singularly  protracted.  Around  her  couch 
were  tearful  attendants,  who  stood  and  gazed  with 
pity  on  her  shrunken  features  and  throbbing  breast. 
Ormond  sat  and  held  the  hands  of  the  sufferer,  and 
looked  in  intense  anguish  on  her  form.  Every  pang 
she  seemed  to  feel  inflicted  an  intense  one  on  him. 
Haggard  and  unshaven,  with  eyes  bloodshot  from 
long-continued  vigils  and  burning  like  coals  of  fire, 
he  was  dead  to  the  external  world.  He  lived  but  in 
her,  and  was  deaf  but  to  her  anguish. 

For  three  days  had  she  spoken  no  word.  All  that 
science  and  skill  could  accomplish  was  done  ;  and,  al 
though  her  physicians  remained  constantly  with  her, 
the  case  was  left  in  the  hands  of  God.  : 

Her  medical  friend  sat  by  her,  watch  in  hand, 
counting  the  fleeting  moments ;  and  then,  signing  to 
the  nurse,  moistened  the  parched  lips  of  the  patient 
with  some  liquid.  Since  she  had  become  insensible, 
she  had  never  spoken,  but  lay  in  a  kind  of  stupor, 
exhibiting  no  signs  of  life  other  than  the  heavy 
breathing  and  uneasy  murmurs.  The  fever  had 
wrought  a  fearful  change  on  that  once  polished  and 
rounded  form ;  and  the  pale  cheeks  and  sunken  eyes 
were  hollowed  by  disease.  But  there  Ormond  sat, 
heeding  naught  on  earth  save  the  deep  pulsations  of 
her  heart,  and  the  moans  of  anguish  which  ever  and 
anon  burst  from  her  tortured  bosom.  There  lay  the 
idol  of  his  affections,  who,  racked  by  pain  and  disease, 
lay  dying.  Oh  !  how  tortured  was  his  soul,  and  how 
deep  was  his  grief,  as  he  looked  upon  her,  pressed  her 
hand,  and  whispered  hoarsely,  "  Marie  1  Marie  !"  But 
she  saw  him  not,  she  heard  him  not,  she  knew  not 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  205 

that  his  heart  throbbed  with  convulsive  emotion,  and 
that  the  deep  sighs  which  came  sobbingly  forth,  indi 
cated  a  breaking  heart.  Oh  !  his  generous  soul  was  filled 
with  a  deep  and  dreadful  agony,  and  great  drops  of 
sweat  ran  down  his  forehead.  His  hand  was  pressed 
to  his  burning  eyes,  which  had  not  been  closed  in 
slumber  for  so  many  days  of  misery.  But  he,  the 
devoted,  the  high-hearted  Ormond — he  heeded  not 
sleepless  nights  and  days  of  suffering ;  he  tired  not 
of  prayers  uttered,  deep  and  fervent,  at  the  midnight 
hour.  ISTo  ;  he  remained  by  the  couch,  lost  to  every 
thing  save  her. 

It  was  only  by  the  presence  of  the  physician,  and 
the  gentle  pressure  of  his  hand  on  his  arm,  that  he 
was  aroused.  He  cast  his  eyes  wildly  around  him. 
"  Doctor,"  he  asked,  with  an  almost  maniac  glare,  "is 
there  any  hope  ?" 

Slowly  and  sadly  the  doctor  shook  his  head  ;  and,  as 
he  looked  upon  the  form  of  the  sufferer,  a  tear  rolled 
down  his  cheek. 

Marie  stirred,  and  moaned ;  she  opened  her  eyes, 
and  looked  about  her  as  if  in  surprise,  then  a  look  of 
intelligence  passed  over  her  countenance,  as  she  real 
ized  her  situation.  Her  eyes  met  those  of  Ormond's, 
who  was  tenderly  bending  over  her;  a  faint  flush 
overspread  her  cheeks,  and  a  sparkle  of  recognition 
appeared.  "  Charles,"  she  faintly  whispered  ;  but  al 
though  he  bent  his  ear  over  her  pillow,  and  intently 
listened,  she  was  silent.  Tremblingly  she  raised  her 
thin  and  feeble  hand ;  and  seemed  to  be  groping  like  a 
person  in  darkness.  Ormond  took  it  in  his,  and  ten 
derly  pressed  it ;  she  smiled  slightly,  and  it  was  still. 
Like  a  bird  seeking  its  nest,  it  had  found  it,  and  was 


206  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

content.  As  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  her,  a  convulsive 
shudder  passed  over  her  system. 

"  Doctor !  doctor  I"  exclaimed  he  madly,  half- 
arising. 

The  physician  placed  his  hand  upon  her  wrist,  he  rais 
ed  the  drooping  eyelids,  and  then  took  Ormond  by  the 
hand  to  lead  him  away ;  but  he  shook  off  his  hand  im 
patiently,  and  creeping  closer,  leaned  over,  and,  in  a 
voice  choked  by  emotion,  cried, 

"  Marie !  Marie !  Oh  leave  me  not  yet ;  remember 
our  children,  our  friends ;  oh  !  stay  yet  awhile !  Oh ! 
God,  is  this  justice  ?  is  this  thy  divine  love  ?  spare  her, 
oh  God ;"  and  he  threw  himself  on  his  knees  by  the 
couch.  She  moaned — the  destroyer  had  come — he 
started — a  change  had  passed  over  her — a  spasmodic 
tremor  agitated  her  system,  a  slight  murmur,,  anpther 
sigh,  and,  with  the  softness  of  the  summer's  wind,  her 
spirit  passed  away,  and  all  was  peace.  Ormond  gazed 
wildly  at  her  a  moment  in  silence ;  and  then  with  a 
deep  groan  sunk  senseless  to  the  floor. 

A  massive  slab  of  marble  bearing  the  simple  word 
"  Marie,"  marked  the  place  where  was  laid  the  once 
peerless  and  pure. 

"She  was  a  cherished  treasure,  too  good,  too  pure  for  earth; 
And  she  left  us  in  her  beauty,  her  innocence  and  mirth ; 
So  we  laid  her  in  the  grave-yard  where  the  willow  branches  wave, 
"With  the  cold  earth  for  her  pillow  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave." 

It  was  many  days  ere  Ormond  was  able  to  sit  up, 
even  in  an  invalid's  chair.  His  medical  friend  attend 
ed  him  with  all  the  kindness  of  a  brother ;  he  strove 
to  cheer  him.  With  an  all-abiding  faith  in  the  mercy 
of  his  Heavenly  Father,  he  strove  to  direct  his  thoughts 


THE    CEEOLE    OEPBANS.  207 

to  that  better  world,  to  teach  him  resignation,  and 
submission  to  his  wise  decrees.  "  When  all  other  sup 
ports,"  he  exclaimed  with  Christian  mildness,  "are 
thrown  down,  and  worldly  comfort  has  departed,  then, 
my  friend,  the  solace  which  the  belief -in  His  divine 
goodness  gives,  is  beyond  expression.  You  have  been 
chastened  by  the  hand  of  a  friend.  Pour  out  your 
soul  in  confidence  to  Him,  have  faith  in  His  power  to 
give  comfort  to  a  wounded  soul.  Human  philosophy 
is  here  of  little  use ;  depend  on  Him  who  alone  can 
dry  your  tears,  and  give  relief.  We  know  that  our 
Eedeemer  liveth,  that  a  few  short  yeats,  and  we  shall 
all  be  called  ;  we  shall  join  our  friends  in  that  land  of 
light,  and  love,  where  sorrow  never  comes,  and  hap 
piness  is  endless  and  complete."  Such  was  the  exhort 
ation  of  the  good  and  Christian  physician  to  the  de 
sponding  Ormond. 

When  he  had  recovered  sufficiently,  he  returned 
home,  but  it  was  months,  before  he  was  again  able  to  ride 
about  and  give  his  attention  to  business.  He  felt  that 
the  death  of  Marie  was  such  a  stroke  on  him  that  he 
never  would  entirely  survive  it.  He  roamed  about  the 
house,  and  plantation  ;  and  pleasure  seemed  to  be  for 
ever  dead  within  him.  Every  object  he  saw  was 
some  reminder  of  the  loved  and  lost,  and  opened 
again  the  fountain.  He  did  not  indulge  a  childish 
unmanly  grief;  his  was  a  true,  a  noble,  a  dignified 
and  non-complaining  sorrow.  He  thought  of  her  in 
the  days  of  her  youth,  brightening  every  place  with 
her  presence  of  the  thousand  endearing  words,  and 
her  kind  actions,  of  her  every  look  and  expression,, 
and  of  every  circumstance  connected  with  her.  Ah  I 
how  often  he  sat  in  that  old  gallery,  and  let  his  imag- 


208  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

ination  wander  back  to  scenes  long  past  and  gone ! 
How  often  would  he  enter  the  door  of  the  chamber, 
while  memory  would  almost  cheat  him  into  the  belief, 
that  he  again  heard  that  bird-like  voice  warbling  joy 
ously,  or  her  light  footstep  hastening  to  meet  him  as 
he  approached.  There  by  that  window,  where  the 
sunlight  quivers  and  struggles  to  find  an  entrance 
amid  the  jasmin  clustering  around  it,  was  her 
favorite  seat,  the  tendrils  extending  inward,  as  if  striv 
ing  to  meet  her  and  be  near  her  ;  and  there  was  her 
accustomed  chair,  with  her  little  work-table,  and  its 
pearl  ornaments — the  many  little  articles  of  use  and 
decoration,  which  only  female  taste  can  appreciate. 
There  was  her  favorite  volume,  exactly  as  she  had  left 
it ;  and  there  h^r  last  work,  rolled  up,  neatly  folded,  and 
laid  away,  just  as  it  was  placed  by  her  fair  hands  before 
her  last  journey  with  Ormond.  Here  are  her  toilet 
articles,  and  in  that  armoire  hang  the  many  dresses, 
which  so  often  clasped  that  sylph-like  form.  There 
were  the  memorials,  which  caused  the  tears  to  gush 
like  an  overcharged  fountain.  There  were  the  memo 
rials,  of  one  who  had  gone,  and  left  no  stain  on  earth. 
He  would  at  eventide  steal  off  into  the  garden,  and 
there  under  the  old  oaks,  where  the  happy  family  cir 
cle  had  so  often  been  gathered,  when  the  night  dew 
began  to  fall,  and  the  whippo-wil's  melancholy  note 
be  heard,  there  the  black  hour  would  come  upon  him, 
and  those  bitter,  bitter  moments  would  end  in  tears — 
those  bitter  moments  which  nothing  can  soothe,  noth 
ing  can  sweeten.  Then  would  he  pray,  that  he  too 
might  be  called,  that  his  pilgrimage  be  ended. 

It  must  not  be  imagined,  that  Ormond  was  neglect 
ful,  far  from  it ;  his  friends  often  came  to  visit  him, 


CREOLE    ORPHANS.  209 

and  tried  by  every  means  in  their  power,  to  draw  him 
away  from  the  melancholy  to  which  he  seemed  so 
wedded.  He  would  receive  their  advances  kindly  and 
faintly  smile  to  please  them,  but  his  grief  was  beyond 
the  reach  of  solace.  He  often  longed  to  say  to  them, 
that  it  was  not  a  mistress  he  mourned,  but  a  wife ;  his 
heart  boiled  at  the  thought  of  any  aspersion  being  cast 
upon  the  memory  of  Marie ;  yet,  when  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  speak,  the  words  would  seem  to  choke 
him,  it  appeared  so  unnatural  to  have  to  defend  her — 
the  loved  one. 

He  had  never  written  to  Zoe  and  Estelle,  since  the 
death  of  their  mother ;  and  now  he  set  himself  to  the 
sad  task.  He  had  not  before  written  to  them  at  all,  for 
Marie  relieved  him  of  that.  She  had  promised  to  write 
to  them  in  regard  to  their  visit  to  Martinique,  yet  it  had 
been  deferred  until  it  was  never  executed.  Herndon 
was  singularly  silent ;  indeed  he  did  not  even  know 
his  address.  At  one  time  Ormond  determined  to 
arouse  himself  from  his  lethargy,  to  throw  off  the  in 
cubus  which  bound  him.  He  concluded  to  go  to  the 
North.  He  often  wished  for  Grant,  and  even  formed 
the  determination  of  going  to  Paris,  and  thence  to 
Italy.  In  this  plan  Dr.  Grant's  father-in-law  eagerly 
acquiesced,  as  he  felt  assured  the  change  would  do 
more  than  any  thing  else,  to  enable  him  to  throw  off 
this  morbid  grief.  He  even  wrote  to  Zoe,  informing 
her  of  his  expectation.  But  still  he  hesitated,  and,  as 
the  season  advanced,  he  gave  it  up.  His  energy  of 
character  was  gone,  and  he  settled  down  into  a  droop 
ing,  listless  state  of  melancholy.  He  seemed  never 
more  satisfied,  than  when  several  of  his  friends  were 
with  him,  and  in  eager  conversation  among  themselves 


210  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

he  would  sit  buried  in  his  own  reveries,  absorbed,  un 
heeding,  and  lost  to  every  thing.  He  at  length  wrote 
for  Talbot,  who  had  left  JSTew  Orleans  when  the  yellow 
fever  was  at  its  height,  but  returned  at  its  subsidence. 
He  obeyed  the  summons  quickly,  and  when  he  alight 
ed  at  the  steps,  was  met  by  Ormond  with  a  melancholy 
smile  and  a  courteous  welcome.  This  appearance  of 
sincere  sorrow  and  deep  feeling  even  affected  Talbot, 
and  he  was  for  once  touched  by  the  dignified  and 
patient  grief  exhibited  by  his  noble  kinsman.  He  was 
inexpressibly  shocked  at  the  great  change  which  had 
been  wrought  in  his  handsome  features,  and  while  he 
gazed,  a  secret  thrill  of  emotion,  a  species  of  electric 
exultation,  such  as  a  fiend  might  feel  while  he  listened 
to  the  scream  of  agony  of  his  victim,  found  a  place 
in  his  bosom.  Secretly  he  thought  of  Ormond's 
death,  and  hugged  himself  with  the  idea,  the  pos 
sibility  of  being  the  nearest  collateral  heir,  as  the  read 
er  is  aware  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  action  which 
had  been  taken  in  regard  to  the  wife  and  childrenf.  So 
he  secretly  nursed  those  feelings  of  ambition  and  av 
arice,  and  dreamed  on. 

Time  flew  and  Ormond  was  evidently  sinking;  his 
friends  observed  it,  and  sorrow  was  in  their  breasts,  as 
they  saw  his  noble  form,  bowed  down  by  grief,  and 
looked  upon  his  wasted  cheek.  Talbot  was  now  his  con 
stant  companion.  Ormond  gave  him  a  carte  blanche  to  his 
factors,  and  charge  of  much  of  his  business.  He  re 
paid  this  confidence  by  the  exhibition  of  the  solicitude 
of  a  son.  So  kind  was  Ormond  to  him,  and  so  gener 
ous,  that  often  while  he  sat  and  gazed  at  him,  as  he 
reclined  on  the  lounge  in  the  gallery,  with  his  eyes 
Ast  on  the  floor,  and  absorbed  in  a  melancholy  reverie, 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  211 

lie  almost  relented,  and  human  feeling  would  pass 
through  his  breast.. 

But  when  he  would  turn  his  eye  toward  the  fields 
of  waving  cane,  the  towering  chimneys  of  the  sugar- 
house  ;  upon  those  noble  buildings,  and  think  that  all 
this  lordly  property  might  one  day  be  his ;  then  would 
all  softer  feelings  be  banished,  the  sorrowing  coun 
tenance  and  sad  eyes  of  his  friend  be  forgotten,  and 
the  flame  of  avarice  burn  so  bright  and  clear,  that  he 
would  have  strangled  his  own  first-born  if  it  had 
thrown  any  impediment  in  the  way  of  his  ambition. 
As  the  probability  of  the  speedy  death  of  Ormond  was 
presented  to.  him,  by  his  extreme  weakness  and  ex 
cessive  pallor,  he  would  feel  as  if  the  battle  were  over 
and  the  victory  won ;  his  step  would  be  firm,  and  his 
bearing  more  commanding.  He  sometimes  visited 
New  Orleans,  and  often  saw  Stamps,  who  had  lost  his 
place,  but  still  clung  to  his  old  friendship.  Talbot 
always  supplied  his  wants,  for  he  felt  there  was  a  time 
coming  when  he  should  need  his  services,  and  he 
would  be  repaid  with  usury. 

Zoe  was  now  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  Estelle  two 
years  her  junior.  They  had  never  left  the  walls  of  the 
convent  since  their  entrance ;  but  now  they  signified 
a  wish,  if  it  were  agreeable  to  their  father,  to  return 
home.  They  had  well-improved  their  time,  and  taken 
advantage  of  the  opportunities  offered,  had  readily 
become  possessed  of  all  those  arts  and  accomplish 
ments  which  are  so  elgantly  taught  by  the  ladies  in 
those  schools.  Their  native  tongue  was  not  neglected, 
while  other  languages  were  taught  in  all  their  pur 
ity.  They  were  bright  creatures,  full  of  animation, 
and  beloved  by  the  ladies  and  their  fellow-pupils. 


212  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

Since  the  reception  of  the  news  of  their  mother's  death, 
ZOQ  had  become  more  serious  and  melancholy  in  her 
disposition.  Louis  Lamotte  still  went  to  the  Poly- 
techriique  school,  and  sometimes  came  to  see  them. 
He  had  at  first  felt  for  Zoe  that  pure  childish  prefer 
ence  over  others  which  is  exhibited  by  a  fondness  of 
association,  and  afterward  by  assiduous  attention, 
resigning  all  pleasures  for  the  sake  of  the  loved  object ; 
and,  ultimately,  when  years  of  maturity  crown  them, 
the  sly  glances,  the  palpitations,  the  sighs,  the  tears, 
the  tender  pressure  of  hands,  and  the  soft  acknowledg 
ments.  Louis,  as  we  have  said,  had,  when  a  boy, 
sought  the  society  of  Zoe ;  the  close  companionship 
of  a  voyage  had  told  upon  a  susceptible  organization, 
and  he  felt  that  he  loved.  He  had  never  had  an 
opportunity  in  visiting  them,  of  making  his  senti 
ments  known ;  but,  by  slight  actions  and  an  occasional 
pressure  of  Zoe's  hand,  which  caused  the  warm  rich 
blood  to  suffuse  her  face  and  neck.  She  knew  that 
she  was  loved.  He  heard  from  her  of  their  wish  to 
return  home,  and  he  warmly  seconded  the  desire.  He 
had  now  grown  up  into  a  fine  young  man,  with  an  eye 
of  fire  and  a  heart  as  noble,  brave  and  pure,  as  a  high 
course  of  moral  .training  could  make  it. 

As  the  spring  drew  on,  and  Ormond  grew  no  worse, 
but  rather  better,  Talbot  conceived  it  advisable  to 
return  to  his  business.  One  evening  he  sought  his 
patron,  and,  with  apparent  reluctance,  mentioned  his 
wish  to  return  to  New  Orleans. 

"  Mr.  Talbot,"  exclaimed  Ormond,  feelingly ;  "  I  can 
not  express  to  you  my  grateful  feelings  for  your  kind 
attention  to  me.  I  will  not  be  ungenerous  enough  to 
ask  you  to  remain  to  listen  to  the  vagaries  of  an  in- 


THE    CREOLE     OBPHANS.  213 

valid  like  myself,  and  think,  perhaps,  it  were  bet 
ter  for  you  to  return ;  but  come  and  visit  me ;  come 
and  stay  with  me ;  you  shall  ever  be  a  welcome 
guest,  and  in  any  event,  remember  that  you  have 
a  friend  upon  whose  kindness  and  purse  you  can  ever 
rely." 

After  some  further  conversation  they  separated. 

A  few  mornings  after,  he  came  to  bid  adieu  to  his 
host.  The  parting,  on  tHe  side  of  one,  was  an  exhi 
bition  of  feeling  which  was  pure ;  on  the  other  it  was 
forced. 

A  package  was  placed  in  Talbot's  hands,  as  he 
turned  to  go  on  board  the  steamer.  In  the  privacy 
of  his  state-room  he  opened  it.  and  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars  was  exhibited,  with  simply  ^he  words 
in  the  envelop — <:  From  an  affectionate  friend.'1''  He 
grinned  with  ghastly  delight,  and  exclaimed ;  "  This 
will  do  to  begin  the  campaign  with  ;  we  must  always 
have  the  treasury  chest  full ;  for  there  may  be  lawyers 
to  fee  if  this  affair  does  come  off1;"  and  with  this  ex 
clamation  of  unfeeling,  fiendish  brutality,  he  stalked 
to  the  bar,  and,  with  a  lordly  air,  ordered  a  cocktail. 

As  he  passed  through  the  crowd  of  passengers,  a 
sentence  from  one  of  them  seemed  to  be  aimed  at  him ; 
for  it  struck  horrie  with  peculiar  force,  and  rung  in 
his  ears  for  many  a  day  afterward.  The  expression 
was,  "  Well,  who  knows  but  it  is  best  to  be  honest 
after  all?" 

"Who  knows?"  mentally  answered -Talbot,  as  he 
passed  forward,  puffing  a  cigar,  and  pressing  the  pocket 
which  contained  the  precious  paper. 

The  summer  came,  and  passed  into  the  fall,  and  the 
joyous  echos  of  the  cane-cutters  resounded  through 


214  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

the  densely  covered  field.  Ormond  had  improved  in 
health. 

"I  really  believe,  Hall,"  said  he  one  day  to  the 
father-in-law  of  Dr.  Grant,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  him, 
as  they  were  walking  slowly  along  to  the  sugar-house ; 
"  I  really  believe  that  I  shall  get  well  after  all ;  and  if 
I  care  about  recovering,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  my 
children." 

"I  know  that  you  are  much  stronger  than  you 
were,"  answered  his  friend,  looking  at  him  with  affec 
tion  ;  "  and  you  know  with  what  delight  your  friends 
witness  your  amendment." 

"  Ah  !  Hall,  I  have  kind  and  warm  friends  indeed." 

"  I  believed  once  that  I  should  have  the  sorrow  to 
witness  your  death,  Ormond ;  but  God  has  listened  to 
your  prayers  as  well  as  mine." 

"  I  have  been  chastened  heavily,"  he  answered,  with 
a  sigh ;  "  but  the  Almighty  has  seen  fit  for  me  to  sur 
vive  the  sad  blow." 

"  "We  have  all  of  us  had  onr  heart-strings  strained 
near  to  breaking,  Ormond.  Poor  Caroline  !  she  sleeps 
in  a  foreign  land."  Here  a  large  ifear  stole  down  the 
cheek  of  the  kind  father,  at  the  recollection  of  his 
daughter's  fate.  "I  wonder  where  "Grant  is  now?" 
he  suddenly  asked. 

"God  knows!  You  have  never  heard  from  him 
since  that  sorrowful  event  ?" 

"No."  V 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  with  him." 

"I  think  if  you  could  have  gone  to  Paris  when 
you  spoke  of  it,  Ormond,  you  would  have  recovered 
long  since,  and  even  now  a  sea  voyage  would  benefit 
you." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  215 

"  I  hardly  think  it  advisable  to  leave  home  now, 
Hall ;  but  next  spring,  if  I  am  spared,  I  will  go  for 
my  children.  Zoe  is  now  sixteen  years  old,  and  she 
must  take  her  mother's  place  in  the  family." 

"  They  must  be  very  lovely  girls  now.  *  I  would 
have  visited  them  if  I  had  gone  to  Italy  before  poor 
Caroline  died  ;  but  you  remember  I  was  not  at  home 
when  that  black,  black  letter  came." 

Nothing  more  was  spoken  for  a  few  minutes,  until 
they  arrived  at  the  sugar-house. 

"  I  see  that  young  man,  Talbot  has  returned  to  the 
city  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  returns  to  his  business.  I  shall  always 
feel  grateful  to  him  for  his  kind  attention  to  me  while 
I  really  needed  it." 

"  Well,  Ormond,  I  am  thankful  to  him  also,  and  do 
not  think  hard  of  me  if  I  speak  my  mind ;  but  I  can 
not  say  if  I  am  right.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  like 
that  man.  I  can  not  believe  that  he  is  sincere.  There 
is  too  great  a  desire  to  conciliate  ;  it  is  apparent  in  all 
he  does.  I  never  trust  a  man  who  is  ever  striving 
against  his  natural  feelings  to  become  popular,  except 
he  is  a  candidate  for  some  office,  and  then  it  is  policy. 
But  I  pray  God  I  may  be  deceived,  and  that  you  may 
find  him  true." 

"'I  disliked  him  myself  at  first,  but  time  has-  worn 
off  my  prejudices." 

"  I  may  not  be  right,  Ormond ;  but  mark  me  if  that 
man  does  not  show  the  cloven  foot  yet." 

"  Godtforbid !  Hall.    I  would  not  be  deceived ;  for 
I  wish  the  young  man  well,  and  it  is  my  intentionj*^^ 
act  a  good  part  by  him." 

"  I  shall  never  have  any  confidence  in  him." 


216  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  hear  of  Grant,"  said 
Ormond,  turning  the  conversation. 

"  And  I,"  answered  the  other.  "  I  much  fear  from 
his  silence  that  he  lives  no  longer."  , 

"  Oh  1  for  those  once  happy  days  of  peace  and  tran 
quillity,  when,  with  dear  friends  around  us,  we  feared 
no  interlopers,  no  stratagems;  but  those  days  have 
gone  forever,  and  happiness  is  no  longer  ours." 

"  Our  loss  is  great,  Ormond ;  but  time  will  bring 
healing  on  its  wings." 

"  How  contented,  how  perfectly  satisfied  we  once 
were !  Our  pleasant  meetings,  our  pic-nics,  our 
hunts — do  you  remember  them  ?" 

"  All,  all !  and  I  remember  that  dinner  in  the  woods, 
when  Hartley  was  first  brought  here.  What  a  clever 
gentleman  he  was !  I  was  not  there,  but  I  heard  the 
doctor  and  Herndon  often  laugh  about  it,  and  describe 
Pierre's  big  drink." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  sighed  Ormond ;  "  how  strange  Hartley 
never  wrote !" 

"  'Tis  the  way  of  the  world." 

"  The  world  !  it  is  not  so  bright  to  me  as  of  yore  ; 
the  sun  is  darker,  the  flowers  have  lost  their  fragrance, 
and  when  the  spring  breezes  pass  gently  by  me,  they 
carry  sorrow  on  their  wings;  there  is  a  breathing 
melancholy  in  all  nature.  I  sometimes  catch  myself 
going  to  the  chamber  which  she  used  to  occupy,  with 
some  message  in  my  mind ;  and  Lstartje  myself  with 
the  echo  of  her  name  on  my  lips,  as  it-sounds  through 
the  deserted  chamber.  I  hear  'her  voice  i^the  even- 
winds,  and  every  perfume  Wih^ch  is^JSfeed  past 
reminds  me  of  the  lost.  Alan  eMx  stem to  Lear 
lysterious  voices  in  the  ajtfkid  ' 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  217 

the  stirring  of  unseen  wings  near  my  cheek.  Are  we 
not  watched  by  our  friends  in  the  spirit  land?  Do 
they  not  guard  us  ?  Are  they  not  near  us  ?  Do  they 
not  rejoice  in  our  joy,  and  sorrow  at  our  unhappi- 
ness?" 

"  This  may  be  true,  Ormond  ;  but  your  silent  mus 
ings  have  affected  your  mind ;  it  is  not  healthy. 
Mingle  more  in  the  world  ;  try  to  take  an  interest  in 
other  affairs ;  do  not  give  way  to  such  morbid  fancies  j 
they  will  work  you  an  injury." 

10 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  Plots  and  counterplots." 
"He  who  spreads  a  snare  for  others  often  gets  caught  himself." 

HHHE  reader  will  now  imagine  a  period  of  two  years 
-*-     passed  away  since  the  last-described  scene. 

The  characters  of  our  history  remain  in  the  same 
situation  in  which  we  left  them.  Ormond  had  gradu 
ally  improved  in  health,  until  he  acquired  a  seeming 
vigor  of  constitution  as  in  earlier  days,  and  at  times  he 
was  almost  lively.  He  had  deferred  his  trip  to  France 
until  Zoe  and  Estelle  were  so  urgent  to  return  that  he 
proposed  to  go  for  them.  Dr.  Grant  had  never  been 
heard  from,  and  his  friends  supposed  him  dead.  Tal- 
bot  was  still  a  clerk,  and  Stamps  also  had  a  situation 
in  the  same  house.  As  often  as  Talbot  met  Ormond 
in  the  street,  he  came  to  the  conviction  that  he  had 
counted  without  his  host,  and  the  memory  of  the 
words  he  once  heard,  "  Who  knows  but  it's  best  to  be 
honest  after  all,"  often  came  into  his  mind.  .As  his 
hopes  died  off  in  proportion  as  the  health  of  Ormond 
increased,  so  his  intimacy  with  Stamps  was  lessened. 
Poor  Ormond !  little  did  you  dream  when  you  met 
the  viper  in  JOMT  walks,  when  you  kindly  gave  him 
your  hand,  and  offered  your  purse  so  generously,  when 
warm  pressure  of  your  hand  was  returned,  little 
you  know  that  at  that^ery  moment  the  cold 
blooded  scoundrel  was  H^^Bpting  on  your  death; 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  219 

that  the  rosy  hue  of  your  cheek  sent  a  death  -blow  to 
the  hopes  which  he  was  cherishing.  But  so  it  was ; 
for  he  was  Talbot  still. 

But  a  change  was  again  to  creep  over  the  good  and 
pure,  the  high-hearted  Ormond ;  and  although  the 
health  of  this  noble^  man  seemed  restored,  there  was 
in  his  breast  a  secret  agent  at  work,  slowly  *but  surely 
sowing  the  seeds  of  death.  And  this  w«as  hastened  by 
a  severe  cold  which  he  caught  on  the  lake,  by  the  up 
setting  of  a  boat. 

During  the  winter,  his  disease  was  much  benefited 
by  remaining  close  in  the  sugar-house,  while  they 
were  boiling  sugar  ;  but  when  the  crop  was  taken  off, 
his  cough  returned,  and  his  friends  were  anxious  for 
him  to  try  the  effects  of  a  sea-voyage.  lie,  at  their 
urgent  entreaties,  sailed  for  New  York,  intending  to 
take  a  vessel  thence  for  France  and  Italy.  He  reached 
New  York ;  and  a  month's  sojourn,  awaiting  the  ar 
rival  of  Herndon,  who  had  remained  at  the  North 
during  all  this  time,  convinced  him  that  it  was  useless 
to  struggle  now  with  the  disease.  His  medical  advisers 
candidly  informed  him  that  his  lungs  were  much 
affected,  and  counseled  him  at  once  to  repair  to  Lou 
isiana.  He  returned  home  to  die.  Herndon  arrived 
in  New  York  three  days  after  he  had  left,  and  his 
business  would  not  permit  him  to  follow  him.  His 
whole  fortune,  save  his  planting  interest,  was  involved 
in  the  great  commercial  crisis  at  this  period ;  and  he 
remained,  fighting  with  the  harpies  of  Wall-street  for 
his  rights.  He  had  intended  long  since  to  return  to 
Louisiana ;  but  his  legal  friends  advised  him  to  remain 
on  the  ground.  Rej^ji  also  said  that  he  intended  to 
introduce  a  New  ]^Bfiri<l  bride  to  the  Creoles  of 


Iho 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 


Louisiana.  At  all  events,  he  found  some  inducement 
to  remain ;  and,  save  a  voyage  to  England,  he  had 
never  left  the  scene  of  his  labors. 

Orniond  arrived  in  New  Orleans.  Talbot  met  him 
in  the  street  after  landing,  and  was  startled  by  the 
look  of  extreme  emaciation  and  suffering  which  he 
exhibited.  He  noticed  it,  and  smiled,  attributing  it  to 
the  shock  at  seeing  the  change. 

"  It  is  nothing  but  natural.  You  see  I  can  not  last 
long." 

"  You  look  very  badly,  sir;"  returned  he ;  "  for 
when  you  sailed  for  New  York,  it  was  said  you  were 
improving." 

"  I  had  improved  much,  but  it  was  only  temporary. 
I  became  worse  immediately,  and  I  feel  that  my  days 
are  numbered." 

He  insisted  on  Talbot's  calling  on  him  while  he 
remained  in  the  city,  and  slowly  walked  to  the 
hotel. 

"  Now,"  exclaimed  Talbot,  as  he  watched  the  reced 
ing,  but  still  portly  form  of  his  benefactor,  "  now 
comes  the  tug  of  war  !  Ormond,  I  feel  sorry  for  you. 
Still  calm  and  proud  amid  your  decay — a  noble  ruin ; 
but  oh  I  I  feel  more  for  myself,  who  have  been  so  long 
crushed  under  the  gaunt  hand  of  poverty  and  con 
tempt  :  still,  I  would  even  save  you  if  I  could ;  but  I 
can  not,  and  the  time  has  arrived  which  makes  or  mars 
me." 

That  evening  he  sought  Stamps ;  they  were  together 
all  the  evening.  He  now  exhibited  a  great  deal  of 
g;ood  fellowship  for  him.  Poor  Stamps  was  delighted, 
for  he  still  felt  an  attachment  fo^Talbot. 

"  "We  have  not  been,  as  intJHBe  as  we  used  to  be, 


V     V 

THE    CREOLE    ORPH^I^^'  221 

Billy,"  he  remarked,  as  they  seated  themselves  at  the 
table  of  an  oyster-saloon. 

"  No,  Tolly ;  but  you  know  I  always  did  like  you, 
though  you  have  rather  cut  me  lately,  when  you  got 
among  them  big  relations  of  yours." 

"  Oh !  that  is  a  mistake  of  yours,  Billy  ;  I  aljvays 
thought  the  same  of  you.  You  know  a  man  must 
show  some  attention  to  his  relations  ;  but  let  it  be 
all  forgotten.  I  will  pledge  you*frr%,  bottle  of  wine. 
You  know  I  can  not  drink  any  thing  strong.  Here, 
waiter !— a  bottle  of  Hock." 

"  Well,  Tolly,  don't  order  any  of  that  sour  stuff  for 
me ;  I  would  rather  drink  good  vinegar." 

"  What  will  you  have  then,  Billy?"' 

"Brandy!  brandy!  Tolly." 

The  order  was  given  again,  and  brandy  brought  for 
Stamps.  "  That 's  the  liquor  for  the  souls  of  men," 
exclaimed  he,  fondly  tapping  the  decanter. 

"  Here  is  to  our  old  friendship,  Billy,"  said  Talbot ; 
"jnay  it  never  decay." 

"  I  '11  drink  to  that,  with  pleasure,  Tolly  ;  and  here 
is  a  hand  and  a  heart  that  never  failed  a  friend." 

"  In  that  relation,  Billy,  I  may  have  occasion  for 
them  sooner  than  you  expect." 

"  Ah  !  the  sooner  the  better." 

"  Billy,  listen  to  me.  Suppose  I  were  to  tell  you 
that  the  time  draws  near  when  we  have  to  act ;  that 
the  period  is  approaching,  when  the  ripe  fruit  is  to  be 
shaken  by  the  autumn  wind  into  our  lap." 

"  The  Lord  send  it  along  quickly  !"  he  exclaimed, 
fervently,  "  and  let  me  be  in  at  the  gathering." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  I  have  looked  for  signs,  and  they 
have  been  given  me. 


'.  have 

" 


222  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  What  is  one  of  the  signs,  Tolly  ?" 

"  One  of  the  signs  is,  that  some  of  the  obstacles 
between  the  property  and  myself  are  about  to  be  re 
moved — by  death." 

"  What,  not  that  old  gentleman  that  has  been  so 
kino^  to  you  ? — the  one,  I  mean,  who  was  so  distressed 
by  the  death  of  his  wife." 

"  The  same."    f 

11  Well,  Tolly  f  and  could  you  sit  by,  and  think  of 
yourself  when  you  saw  that  he  was  suffering  ?" 

"Well,  well,  n— not  exactly,"  replied  Talbot, 
alarmed,  lest  the  cold-hearted  fiendishness  of  the  thing 
should  disgust  even  his  tool.  "  The  fact  is,  this  prop 
erty,  by  right,  belongs  to  our  family ;  and  after  his 
death,  I  am  the  nearest  collateral  heir.  It  is  nothing 
but  fair  that  I  should  inherit  after  him.  Come,  Billy, 
take  another  drink,"  he  continued,  seeing  Stamps  con 
tract  his  forehead,  and  bend  his  eyes  thoughtfully 
down  on  the  table.  "  Here  is  to  you;  and  when  we 
take  possession,  we  will  have  the  best  horses,  and  good 
liquor,  and  cigars,  all  the  time." 

"  Ah,  Tolly,"  he  said,  tossing  off  a  glass  of  brandy, 
"  I  never  expect  to  have  all  those  things  till  I  get  to 
heaven,  and  even  then,  they  will  put  off  some  second 
hand  things  on  me." 

"  Ah  !  but,  my  boy,  we  will  have  new  things ;  we 
will  wake  up  all  creation ;  come  and  go  when  we  will, 
and  no  one  to  say  a  word  to  us.  You  will  come  in  for 
half,  you  know." 

"  That 's  too  good,  Tolly  !  but  will  you  do  as  you 
say  ?  Won'$  you,  as  soon  as  you  have  done  with  me, 
kick  me  off,  like  all  the  other  rich  folks  do  ?" 


THE    CREOLE    OKPHANS.  223 

"  No,  sir !  but  you  don't  believe  your  friend  would 
do  that?  Ah!  no,  Billy  I" 

"  I  don't  think  you  would ;  but  I  do  think  it  is  a 
heap  better  to  be  honest." 

"  Oh  I  yes  :  who  would  be  guilty  of  any  thing  mean  ? 
my  very  soul  scorns  it.  At  the  same  time,  a  man 
must  take  care  of  his  own  interest." 

"  Certainly,  Tolly,  certainly  ;  and  to  help  you  there, 
I  will  join  you  in  any  thing  to  make  a  raise."  Here 
he  took  another  sip  of  brandy.  "  But  where  does  this 
old  gentleman  live  ?" 

"  Never  mind !  you  will  find  that  out  too." 

"  You  are  wonderful  sly,  Tolly ;  but  here  is  my 
hand  on  it !"  he  cried,  loudly. 

"  Look  here !  don't  tell  every  body  in  the  room  of 
it,"  cried  Talbot,  looking  around  him,  alarmed. 

"  "Well,  I  won't ;  but  what  is  it  you  want  me  to 
do?" 

"  "Well,  you  know  that  before  a  man  takes  possession 
of  his  property  there  are  certain  formalities  to  go 
through  with,  all  mere  formalities,  though." 

"Oh,  yes,  certainly!  that  is,  I  suppose  so,  for  I 
never  had  to  go  through  much  ceremony  in  taking 
charge  of  my  property ;  but  I  will  do  any  thing  for 
you  in  the  world  except  swear  to  a  lie,  and  Tolly,  I  '11 
be  hanged  if  I  do  that;  no  Sirree!  My  poor  old 
mother,  God  bless  her,  she 's  gone  now ;  she  used  to 
make  me  kneel  down  by  her  side  o'  nights  when  I  was 
a  little  shaver,  and  she  used  to  say  in  her  soft  good 
voice,  '  Never  tell  a  lie,  my  son.' " 

"But  telling  one  for  a  friend,  is  not  swearing  to  one 
Tolly." 

c{  No,  it  is  not  the  same,"  he  replied,  hesitatingly. 


224  THE    CREOLE    ORPHAN'S. 

"Not  at  all,  it's  done  every  day." 

"  The  more 's  the  pity ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  There  is  no  lie  in  the  case.  I  do  not  know  that 
there  will  be  any  part  for  you  to  act  at  all ;  I  may 
have  to  send  you  away,  maybe  not ;  but  you  will  be 
well  paid,  and  you  must  do  what  you  have  to  perform 
well,  for  the  other  side  will  employ  the  best  counsel." 

"  Of  course  they  will ;  but  where  will  I  have  to  go 
to?" 

"  To  France,  maybe." 

"  To  France !  why — why  I  speak  French  as  well 
as  I  do  Turkish,  ha,  ha !  but  that 's  a  good  one.  And 
for  what?" 

"lean  not  tell  you  yet,  Billy,"  returned  Talbot, 
who  saw  that  he  had  gone  far  enough.  "  I  will  have 
to  study  on  it." 

"  Yery  well,  Tolly,  through  fire  or  water,  it 's  the 
same  to  me ;  here 's  to  you.  I  wish  1  had  to  start  to 
morrow  ;  only  say  the  word,  and  I  am  off,  you  know 
that  when  I  am  under  a  promise  I  never  fail." 

"Yes,  but  you  talk  too  loud; — you  are  attracting 
the  attention  of  every  body  in  the  room ;  come  and 
let  us  walk  out,  and  I  will  tell  you  more."  Then 
rising  and  settling  with  the  barkeeper,  he  drew  Stamp's 
arm  through  his  own,  and  they  left  the  room. 

Down  the  street  they  walked,  arm  in  arm,  Talbot 
studying  in  what  way  to  bind  his  companion  to  him 
in  such  a  manner  that  he  could  not  retract ;  and  he  in 
a  half  drunken  state,  leaning  heavily  on  Talbot's  arm, 
with  visions  of  wine  and  women  floating  in  an  indis 
tinct  manner  through  his  mind.  They  walked  on  and 
turned  down  into  a  broad  street ;  a  handsome  row  of 


THE    CKEOLE    OK  P  HANS.  225 

trees  occupied  the  center ;  they  passed  over  and  found 
themselves  under  the  frowning  arch  of  a  church. 

"Billy,"  said  Talbot,  as  they  seated  themselves 
upon  the  cold  stone  steps  •  "  this  is  a  matter  which  re 
quires  all  our  thoughts,  and  although  it  may  seem 
premature  to  give  it  such  attention  now,  I  believe  it  is 
the  best  to  be  prepared  and  have  every  thing  under 
stood  beforehand ;  it  is  no  boy's  play,  but  a  struggle 
for  wealth  and  power ;  a  something  which  we  have  at 
a  distance. seen "  at  a  sublime  height  years  ago,  and 
never  expected  in  reality  to  reach.  Such  a  situation 
is  now  offered  to  us  as  will  insure  to  us  the  extent  of 
our  desires  the  remainder  of  our  life.  The  next  ques 
tion  is,  will  you  join  me  and  stand  by  me,  or  have 
you  any  scruples?" 

"  No,  Tolly  I  I  have  told  you  I  would  pack  my 
trunk  and  start  right  away,  if  you  want  me." 

"  Well,  that  is  right ;  listen !  We  are  all  actuated 
by  self-interest,  every  one  is  for  himself— here  in  this 
great  city  as  every  where  else ;  the  big  merchants  they 
swindle  the  poor  devils  of  planters  ;  they  again  crowd 
the  negroes ;  the  lawyers,  they  keep  difficulties  alive, 
while  the  doctors  pray  for  cholera  and  yellow  fever ; 
and  thus  it  is  all  around ;  even  here  in  this  building, 
which  every  Sunday  resounds  to  the  song  of  praise, 
even  its  high  priest  talks  for  glory  and  self-interest ; 
the  doctrine  is  '  Let  God  take  care  of  the  rich,  the 
poor  can  take  care  of  themselves.' " 

"  I  think  you.  ought  to  have  studied  for  the  minis 
try,  Tolly,  you  are  a  pretty  good  talker." 

"Pshaw!  listen  to  me;  I  wish  you  to  swear  here 
on  the  steps  of  this  holy  building ;  we  will  then  un 
derstand  each  other.  If  you  will  aid  me  in  every 

10* 


226  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

manner,  and  implicitly  obey  without  hesitation,  any 
request  I  may  make,  I  will  divide  with  you.  There 
are  two  young  girls  in  the  case.  They  are  in  Paris, 
and  if  we  ever  get  possession  I  will  have  power  over 
them.  You  shall  have  one  of  them,  and  a  portion  of 
the  property.  Will  you  join  me  ?" 

Stamps  had  listened ;  he  was  now  sobered  by  the 
walk  and  the  cool  air ;  he  arose, 

"  Tolly,  you  have  got  me  on  a  weak  point ;  keep 
your  promise  to  me,  and  /  will  be  faithful  to  you. 
Yes !"  he  continued,  "I  swear  by  the  memory  of  my 
old  gray -headed  mother,  to  be  true  to  you,  even  at  the 
sacrifice  of  my  own  life." 

"Only  swear  in  that  manner!"  cried  Talbot,  rising, 
and  facing  him  closely,  "  only  swear  in  that  manner, 
and  then  we  will  ratify  the  bargain,  and  divide  the 
spoil ;  for  the  time  is  not  distant  when  he  will  be  laid 
with  his  fathers,  the  death  mark  is  on  his  brow." 

"  I  do,  I  do  1"  answered  he.  His  friend  answered 
not  a  word,  but  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  .grasped 
the  other:  he  held  it  a  moment — the  contract  was 
formed. 

A  few  evenings  after  saw  Talbot  in  close  and  con 
fidential  conversation  with  an  attorney.  He  occupied 
a  little,  low,  dingy,  dirty  office  in  an  obscure  street. 
Talbot  had  thought  it  was  now  time  to  seek  legal  ad 
vice  ;  he  was  determined  not  to  commit  himself  in 
any  manner,  and  had  sought  the  acquaintance  of  Jo- 
siah  Hiver,  Esquire,  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  him, 
and  candidly  made  a  true  statement  of  the  whole  af 
fair. 

This  Hiver  was  the  very  man  of  all  others  whom 
he  should  have  sought.  Kicked  from  the  bar  in  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  227 

North,  lie  lived  here  in  this  den,  but  gained  consider 
able  notoriety  from  ever  being  the  champion  of  the 
prosecutor.  Low  and  sordid  in  his  own  tastes,  he 
comprehended  all  which  Talbot  required  at  once ;  and 
by  the  present  payment  of  a  fee,  swore  to  remain  faith 
ful,  and  be  on  hand  when  he  was  wanting. 

"  If  the  facts  are  borne  out  by  an  examination,  sir," 
he  answered,  "  I  can  riot  apprehend  any  difficulty  at 
all.  The  children  can  not  inherit,  that  is  certain,  for 
what  says  the  law."  Here  he  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  a  large  folio  and  read :  "  Illegitimate  children  can 
not  claim  the  rights  of  legitimate  children.  But  if 
they  were  legitimated  by  a  subsequent  marriage,  there 
would  be  no  obstacle  to  their  heirship — do  you  see?" 

"IdoF 

"  Well,  when  there  are  no  legitimate  children  and 
no  descendants,  the  natural  children  may  inherit  one 
third  to  one  fourth  of  the  estate ;  or,  they  claim  ali 
mony,  provided  they  are  acknowledged ;  now,  in  this 
case  there  is  no  acknowledgment  ?" 

"  None  at  all,  I  am  confident." 

"Where  are  these  children  now?" 

"  In  France,"  he  answered,  and  then  added — 

"  I  have  neglected  to  say  to  you,  from  all  I  have 
learned,  that  the  mother  of  these  girls  was  a  Quadroon, 
and  a  slave" 

"The  devil!  Well,  that  alters'  the  whole  case,  for 
if  the  children  of  this  woman  are  not  slaves  also,  then 
you  can  eat  me,  sir  I  they  are  slaves  sir,  and  as  such 
can  not  inherit.  You  as  the  nearest  heir  come  in; 
you  claim  the  administration,  take  charge  of  the  prop 
erty,  and  dictate  your  own  terms.  I  would  claim 
them,  sir!  claim  them;  they  are  your  property;  the 


228  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

law  will  hear  you  out;  all  right  as  a  trivet,  sir! 
Mother  was  never  manumitted  previous  to  her  death ! 
She  died  a  slave ;  the  children  follow  the  condition  of 
the  mother.  But  if  she  was  manumitted  we  will  find 
it  out.  We  must  move  cautious  in  this  matter ;  the 
estate  is  large,  and  there  will  probably  be  high  counsel 
employed  on  the  other  side." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  there  will  be  any  thing  done ; 
but  we  must,  as  you  say,  not  move  in  the  dark." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  you  are  right,  but  there  may  be  some 
lien  or  tacit  mortgage  on  it.  Keep  dark.  How  long 
can  the  present  incumbent  possibly  last  ?" 
"  I  think  not  over  two  months." 
"  Probably  not  over  as  many  weeks,  eh  ?" 
The  light  burned  dimly  in  that  little  office.  There 
sat  those  two  black-hearted  villains,  like  ravenous 
vultures,  preparing  to  pounce  down  upon  the  kind 
and  good,  who  lay  upon  a  bed  of  sickness,  calmly 
passing  away  to  the  tomb.  There  they  sat.  The  one 
with  his  sharp  and  peaked  nose,  his  high,  uneven 
forehead,  his  shaven  temples  and  pursed  mouth ;  the 
other,  with  all  the  cunning  of  a  fiend,  and  the  avarice 
of  a  miser,  plotting  the  ruin  of  two  innocent  girls,  and 
coolly  calculating  the  death  of  such  a  man  as  Ormond. 
But,  poor  fellow  1  you  were  good,  and  pure,  and 
dreamed  it  not.  Much  more  conversation  ensued  of 
the  same  import.  Talbot  well  knew  that  he  had  a 
great  stake  to  play  for,  and  determined  not  to  lose  it 
by  an  ill-advised  move.  He  knew  there  would  be 
opposition,  but  his  own  knowledge  convinced  him 
that  it  would  be  useless  to  struggle  with  him ;  for  the 
law  itself,  in  fault  of  other  heirs,  would  sanction  his 
inheritance;  and  he  was  now  preparing  to  prove  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  229 

daughters  of  his  friend  were  not  capable  of  inheriting. 
His  designs  on  the  girls,  now  grown  up  to  woman 
hood,  were  not  developed  in  his  own  mind;  being  of 
a  sensual  disposition,  he  held  female  virtue  in  such  low 
estimation  that  he  fully  believed  that  if  they  knew 
they  were  dependent  on  his  bounty,  they  could  be 
easily  forced  to  yield  to  his  wishes.  Ah !  little  knew 
he  the  strength  of  female  virtue.  He  at  the  same  time 
intended  to  act  falsely  toward  Stamps ;  and  as  soon  as 
he  found  no  more  use  for  him,  to  cut  adrift  and  let 
him  float  away. 

He  very  soon  after  the  above  scene  with  Hiver, 
visited  Ormond,  who  was  still  at  the  hotel ;  he  did  so 
with  a  view  of  actually  ascertaining  the  condition  of 
his  victim.  He  went  with  the  philosophic  indifference 
of  a  surgeon  who  incises  deeply  the  diseased  member, 
seemingly  unconscious  of  the  agonizing  pain  he  is  in 
flicting.  He  went  with  the  calmness  Q£  a  savant  who 
goes  to  examine  some  new  specimen  ;  thus  went  he  to 
ascertain  the  physical  condition  of  Ormond,  and  to 
speculate  on  the  length  of  time  he  would  be  kept  out 
of  the  property.  But  he  came  with  strong  expressions 
of  pity  and  consolation  upon  his  lips. 

Talbot  had  formed  a  very  strong  and  favorable  im 
pression  upon^  the  mind  of  Pierre,  by  liberal  presents 
and  conversations  with  him,  while  residing  there ;  and 
as  Ormond  now  returned  home,  he  promised  to  visit 
him  at  an  early  day,  hoping  to  retain  Pierre  in  his 
employ,  and  give  him  some  items. 

He  kept  his  promise.  Ormond  was  fast  sinking. 
He  saw  Pierre  privately,  and  informed  him  of  the  state 
of  his  master's  health ;  and  then  slipping  some  money 
into  his  hand,  he  charged  him  to  lay  hold  of,  and  keep, 


230  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

all  papers  of  whatever  kind  lie  saw,  to  give  to  him 
when  he  came  up  again ;  and  promised  him  his  free 
dom  if  ever  he  came  into  possession  of  the  property. 

As  day  by  day  rolled  on,  he  looked  for  the  dea,th 
of  his  benefactor,  and  with  feverish  anxiety  glanced 
over  the  address  of  every  letter  which  came  into  the 
office ;  and  eagerly  read  over  the  deaths  in  every 
morning  paper.  He  had  further ,  conversations  with 
his  lawyer,  and  strolled  about  the  street  at  night  with 
Stamps,  exciting  his  imagination  with  the  description 
of  pleasures  he  never  intended  to  allow  him  to  par 
ticipate  in ;  and  training  his  mind  to  a  fit  state  for  the 
perpetration  of  any  crime. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

M  Keep  silence  daughter  of  frivolity,  for  Death  is  in  that  chamber." 

TT  was  evident  to  Ormond,  and  to  his  friends  also, 
•*•  that  he  was  rapidly  declining.  That  once  full 
form,  robust  in  health,  rich  in  pride  of  handsome  and 
matured  manhood,  was  now  thin  and  weak.  That 
step,  once  so  proud  and  firm,  was  now  tottering  and 
vacillating,  and  he  trembled  as  if  age  had  suddenly 
come  over  him.  His  breath  was  quick  and  short,  and 
his  eye  sparkled  with  fatal  brilliancy.  He  occupied 
the  time  mostly  in  reading  books  of  a  devotional  char 
acter;  but  he  had  always  exhibited  a  partiality  for 
newspapers,  and  he  indulged  in  this  even  now.  He 
sat  in  a  large  cane-chair  in  the  front  gallery,  gazing  at 
the  negroes  at  work  in  the  field ;  and  many  was  the 
tear  which  was  dropped,  and  heavy  sigh  that  was 
heaved,  as  they  passed.  His  constant  companion, 
however,  was  poor  Marie's  prayer-book;  and  often 
bitter  tears  would  fall  upon  the  pages  as  he  saw  some 
well-remembered  passage,  or  viewed  with  a  sad  heart 
a  turned  down  leaf,  where  she  had  wept  and  prayed. 
Sometimes  he  would  receive  the  visit  of  a  neighbor, 
and  listen  listlessly  .to  his  conversation;  but  all  his 
friends,  from  feeling,  studiously  avoided  any  allusion 
to  his  situation. 
But  he  noticed  their  looks  of  sympathy,  their  words 


232  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

of  cheerfulness,  when  he  saw  in  them  no.  hope  I  There 
was  a  clergyman  in  the  neighborhood  who  frequently 
came  to  see  him,  He  was  a  good  and  pure  man,  and 
their  conversations  frequently  turned  upon  religious 
subjects.  He  would  freely  speak  of  religion  in  the 
abstract,  for  he  had  ever  been  a  moral  man,  and 
respected  the  laws  of  God,  but  he  would  listen  to  no 
sectarian  principles. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said,  one  day,  as  the  conversation 
turned  toward  baptism,  and  some  particular  points  of 
faith,  "  no  more  of  that,  I  know,  I  feel  that  my  allot 
ted  time  on  earth  is  short,  I  have  lived  out  my  days  in 
peace ;  and  have  never  to  my  knowledge  done  injury 
to  man.  My  sins  are  those  of  omission ;  I  die,  I  hope 
a  Christian  and  a  gentleman.  I  embrace  no  creed,  for 
I  have  faith  in  the  atoning  blood  of  a  dying  Saviour, 

I  have  tried  to  be  a  just  man ; 

• 

"  '  Prayers  now  extorted  may  be  vain 
The  hour  of  mercy  past ' 

At  all  events,  I  have  ever  believed  in  the  mercy  and 
love  of  God  to  his  children,  and  into  His  hands  will  I 
submit  my  case." 

A  fit  of  coughing  interrupted  him,  and  he  fell  back 
in  pain.  The  minister  was  a  sensible  man,  and  a  good 
one,  and  he  saw  Ormond  was  right. 

One  evening,  just  before  sunset,  as  he  was  reclining 
in  his  easy-chair,  with  his  head  thrown  back,  gazing 
*  upward  at  the  gorgeous  clouds,  as  they  were  piled  in 
the  west,  his  mind  was  sad,  for  his  thoughts  were  of 
his  almost  orphan  children,  a  step  was  heard  in  the 
gallery ;  a  hand  was  gently  laid  upon  his  arm ;  he 


THE     CREOLE    ORPHANS.  233 

turned  his  head ;  it  was  Herndon ;  a  quick  flush  shot 
over  his  features.  "  Why — how — did  you  ?7'  was  all 
he  could  gasp  out,  as  he  extended  both  hands. 

"  I  heard  you  were  ill ;  dying,  I  left  my  business  and 
hastened  to  be  with  you ;"  and  here  his  heart  grew  full, 
he  leaned  on  his  friend's  breast,  and  the  tears  welled 
forth  freely.  Oh,  it  is  a  touching  thing  to  see  the 
strong  man  bowed  in  grief,  to  see  the  convulsive  heav- 
ings  of  a  manly  breast,  and  know  that  heart  is  wrung 
by  a  terrible  agony.  But  it  does  no  shame  to  the 
heart  of  such  a  man ;  he  can  weep  and  be  a  man 
still. 

Herndon  had  Deceived  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hall,  who 
apprised  him  of  'Ormond's  situation.  With  a  sorrow 
ful  heart  he  at  once  left  for  Louisiana. 

Herndon  now  remained  constantly  with  his  friend ; 
he  only  staid  at  home  long  enough  to  his  give  orders, 
and  then  return  to  Ormond. 

Days  came  and  went,  and  Herndon  remained  in 
close  attendance  on  his  companion.  As  often  as  he 
saw  him,  he  would  make  up  his  mind  to  speak  to  him 
of  his  affairs  and  of  his  trip  to  Martinique — as  he  act 
ually  knew  nothing  of  what  the  reader  is  aware,  for 
he  left  previous  to  their  return — but  when  he  looked 
at  the  calm  clear  eye  of  his  friend,  and  noticed  his  look 
of  quiet  contentment,  a  tear  would  dim  his  own. 

The  only  thing  which  ever  passed  between  them  on 
the  subject,  was  one  day  when  he  had  been  playing 
chess  with  him,  which  he  often  did  as  a  relaxation, 
he  said, 

"  Herndon,  when  I  am  gone,  you  will  find  a  pack 
age  directed  to  you,  and  one  for  my  children.  The 
one  for  yourself  contains  my  last  wishes ;  I  count  upon 


234  THE    CKEOLE    OEPHANS. 

you  as  a  friend,  and  call  upon  you  as  a  dying  man  to 
see  them  carried  out." 

Hern  don  arose  and  took  his  hand  ;  his  lip  trembled 
as  he  replied, 

"  Command  me,  dear  Ormond,  in  every  thing." 

"Nay,  nay,  my  friend,"  said  he,  with  a  half 
tear  and  a  smile ;  "  one  would  think  it  was  you  who 
were  dying,  instead  of  myself ;  don't  look  so  sorrowful." 
And  the  tears  would  gush  into  the  eyes  of  his  faithful 
friend,  and  he  had  to  turn'  away  to  hide  them. 

"  Another  thing,  Herndon,"  he  said,  when  he  had  sat 
a  few  moments,  as  if  absorbed  in  a  reverie ;  "  I  may  be 
eccentric,  but  it  is  my  wish :  lay  me  in  the  garden  un 
der  the  shade  of  the  old  oaks,  where*  she  and  myself 
have  so  often  sat ;  and  then,  my  friend,  I  wish  her  body 
brought  from  below,  and  under  those  spreading 
branches,  place  it  by  my  own.  Will  you  promise  me 
this?" 

"  Enough,  enough,  Ormond,  in  the  name  of  Grod ;  yes 
— have  done — you  shall  be  obeyed ;"  and  he  raised  his 
hands  and  pressed  them  on  his  breast,  as  if  seeking  re 
lief  from  some  great  internal  pains. 

Ormond  never  again  alluded  to  his  approaching  dis 
solution,  but  sat  and  awaited  the  coming  of  the  de 
stroyer  with  fortitude  and  resignation.  He  often 
spoke  of  Grant  in  the  most  affectionate  manner.  The 
servants  all  seemed  anxious  to  be  doing  something  for 
his  comfort,  and  frequently  stopped  on  their  way  to 
work,  to  say  a  kind  word  to  massa.  Old  Sally  vis 
ited  him  daily,  and  generally  with  some  little  thing 
which  she  had  concocted  for  him.  She  would  talk  to 
him  by  the  hour,  and  sometimes  even  make  him  smile 
at  her  earnest  manner  and  odd  conceits. 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  235 

"  Never  mind,  massa,  de  Lord  He  is  good,  and  I 
knows  dat  when  de  spring  comes,  and  de  flowers  and 
de  mocking-birds  a  singin'  around,  den  you  will  be 
well  agin ;  keep  good  heart,  massa." 

"No,  no,  Aunt  Sally,"  he  replied,  "when  the 
spring  comes,  and  the  flowers  and  birds,  your  poor 
master  will  lie  low,  with  the  grass  waving  green  over 
him." 

"  Now  de  Lord  knows,  it  nuff  to  make  me  mad  to 
hear  you  talk  so ;  it's  a  shame  ;  you  only  got  a  bad  cold, 
and  will  soon  get  well." 

A  few  more  days,  and  Ormond  grew  weaker,  and 
thinner.  He  had  no  strength  left  now,  and  had  to  be 
drawn  into  the  gallery  by  Pierre,  whom  he  kept  about 
him,  as  he  was  a  good  nurse.  He  received  his  friends 
with  a  calm  smile  of  pleasure ;  he  tried,  while  they 
were  present,  to  divert  their  minds  from  his  situation, 
and  conversed  in  a  low  steady  tone  on  different  sub 
jects.  But  the  time  was  fast  drawing  nigh  when  the 
debt  must  be  paid,  and  that  noble  head  be  bowed  ;  he 
grew  still  weaker  and  thinner,  but  his  eye  retained'  its 
fire,  and  his  mind  its  tone.  He  bore  his  pain  so  nobly 
and  so  uncomplainingly.  All  who  visited  him,  breath 
ed  an  atmosphere  of  sorrow,  which  surrounded  him 
like  a  halo.  Thus  it  was  among  friends ;  but  in  the 
silence  of  his  lonely  chamber,  would  he  give  vent  to 
his  feelings ;  there  would  he  sit  and  gaze  passionately 
for  hours,  at  a  miniature  of  Marie,  and  his  thoughts 
would  go  back  to  her, 

"  Not  lost  but  gone  before." 

And  his  orphan  children  too,  they  were  remembered, 
and  then  would  his  bosom  swell  and  his  sorrowing 


236  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

heart  seem  fit  to  burst,  at  their  unprotected  situation. 
He  would  bury  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  the  tears 
would  burst  through,  and  trickle  down  his  emaciated 
fingers,  while  low  moans  would  escape  from  his  over 
charged  bosom. 

Then  a  little  bell  would  sound,  a  servant  enter,  and 
administer  to  him  the  opiate  which  solaced  him,  and 
eased  his  terrible  cough. 

The  prostrating  power  of  the  disease  was  more  evi 
dent  daily,  and  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  it  would 
soon  be  over.  Before  he  became  so  weak,  he  was  one 
night  sitting  writing,  Pierre  was  at  the  window  nod 
ding.  He  finished,  and  sealing  the  package,  exclaimed. 

"  Pierre  1"     The  negro  stood  before  him. 

"Your  master  will  soon  be  no  more,  Pierre,  and  I 
want  you  as  you  love  him,  listen." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  When  I  am  dead,  you  will  take  this  paper  bundle, 
Pierre,  and  give  it  to  Mr.  Herndon.  Let  no  one  but 
him  have  it ;  it  is  important  to  the  interests  of  your 
young  mistresses.  You  are  faithful,  Pierre,  and  would 
not  deceive  your  dying  master.  You  love  them, 
Pierre?" 

"  Yes,  massa ;  me  nuss  'em  long  ago." 

"  Well,  take  it  then,  place  it  in  the  locked  drawer 
of  the  secretary  there  ;  there  is  the  key,  and  be  very 
careful  when  all  is  over  to  do  as  I  have  requested 
you." 

"  Yes,  massa ;  me  gwine  to  do  jest  as  you  tells  me." 

Ormond  handed  the  negro  the  package,  and  saw 
him  lock  it  in  the  drawer  as  he  had  directed,  which, 
when  he  had  done,  he  deposited  the  key  in  a  wafer- 
box  on  the  table. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  237 

It  was  some  ten  days  afterward,  he  was  too  weak 
to  rise,  and  lay  on  his  couch  propped  up  with  pillows. 
It  was  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  and  all  was  still. 
Ormond  was  sleeping  sweetly,  and  lay  like  an  infant 
taking  its  rest.  Pierre  now  determined  to  obtain  pos 
session  of  the  papers,  which  he  knew  Talbot  would 
pay  well  for.  He  entered  the  room  ;  a  servant  sat  on 
a  trunk,  leaning  against  the  wall,  fast  asleep  ;  he  trod 
softly  ;  he  looked  at  his  master,  who  lay  there  uncon 
scious  of  the  foul  wrong  about  to  be  done  to  his  un 
happy  children.  No  feeling  of  pity  found  its  way  to 
the  hardened  negro's  heart ;  no  emotion  of  sorrow 
stirred  in  his  breast,  as  he  turned  and  gazed  at  the 
attenuated  form  of  the  good,  kind  master  and  friend ; 
one  who  had  never  put  a  stripe  on  him,  and  who  had 
overlooked  many  a  fault ;  whose  whole  life  had  been 
to  him  one  kind  action.  He  started,  as  Ormond 
moaned  in  his  sleep  uneasily.  He  approached  the 
servant  to  see  if  he  were  sleeping  also ;  his  deep,  regu 
lar  breathing  assured  him.  He  grasped  the  candle, 
and  approached  his  master's  side;  he  looked  at  the 
workings  of  his  countenance  ;  he  was  evidently  dream 
ing  of  happier  days,  and  as  the  remembrance  floated 
through  his  mind,  the  large  tears  slowly  burst  through 
the  closed  eyelids,  and  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  wet 
ting  the  pillow.  But  no  remorse  filled  the  soul  of  the 
black  demon  ;  he  saw  his  master  was  asleep,  and  hav 
ing  softly  unlocked  the  drawer,  abstracted  the  paper, 
and,  replacing  the  key,  swiftly  left  the  room. 

"  Marie,  dearest  I"  sighed  Ormond,  as  the  negro  dis 
appeared,  "I  have  found  you  at  last;  this  is  heaven 
now  I" 

"  I  will  soon  be  gone,  Herndon,"  he  said  one  even- 


238  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

ing,  as  that  gentleman  sat  by  his  bedside,  and  had  to 
lean  over  and  put  his  ear  close  to  the  lips  of  the 
speaker  to  distinguish  his  words,  so  weak  was  he. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  poor  friend !"  he  replied,  as  he 
pressed  his  hand,  and  his  voice  was  tremulous  with 
emotion. 

"If  Grant  ever  returns,"  he  again  whispered,  "tell 
him  I  loved  him  to  the  last,  and  give  my  love  to 
him." 

Herndon,  seeing  how  swiftly  he  was  sinking,  de 
termined  to  remain  at  his  side  until  it  was  all  over, 
which  he  foresaw  would  not  be  long. 

The  next  evening  he  ordered  the  servant  to  remain 
in  his  master's  chamber,  and  to  call  him  on  the  slight 
est  movement.  Ormond  had,  under  the  influence  of 
opiates,  sunk  into  a  sweet  and  tranquil -slumber.  He 
seemed  entirely  free  from  pain.  Herndon  had  not 
slept  a  moment  the  night  before,  and  laid  down,  but 
he  could  not  sleep ;  he  arose  and  walked  to  the  win 
dow,  gazing  out.  The  moon  was  there,  riding  high 
in  the  heavens,  unconscious  of  the  joys  and  sorrows 
she  revealed  with  her  mellow  light,  and  the  stars 
hung  out  their  silver  lamps,  bright  and  clear.  The 
mocking-bird  was  among  the  topmost  boughs  of  the 
live-qaks  in  the  garden,  making  the  air  vibrate  with 
its  sweet,  wild  melody  ;  the  tinkle  of  the  melancholy 
cow-bell  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  the  cricket's 
chirp  sounded  loud  and  distinct.  All  nature  seemed 
smiling  sweetly,  though  sad.  But  a  dark,  heavy 
mass  of  clouds  hung  low  in  the  south,  and  the  wind 
commenced  piping  through  the  trees;  the  clouds 
gathered  thicker  and  darker,  and  the  shutters  flapped 
heavily  against  the  side  of  the  house  a  moment  after- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  239 

ward.  Herndon  was  restless  and  uneasy,  and  threw 
himself  again  upon  the  bed  in  the  adjoining  room,  but 
not  to  sleep,  for  he  believed  that  in  this  commotion 
of  the  elements  the  soul  of  Ormond  would  pass  away. 
Again  he  entered  the  sick  chamber ;  he  softly  walked 
to  the  bedside.  The  patient  seemed  to  be  sleeping 
calmly,  but  there  was  a  change  on  his  countenance ; 
he  saw  it.  The  eyes  had  assumed  a  deeper  place  in 
the  orbit:  the  face  was  covered  with  a  cold  and 
clammy  perspiration,  and  was  fast  assuming  that  ca 
daverous  hue  so  peculiar.  Alas!  poor  Ormond:  it 
was  the  herald  of  death  !  the  bony  monster  was  visi 
ble,  tangible.  Herndon  hastily  awoke  the  negro  who 
was  sleeping  in  a  chair,  and  bade  him  go  and  call  the 
doctor,  who  was  below,  and  also  arouse  the  overseer, 
who  had  remained  in  the  house  that  night  at  his 
request. 

Again  he  was  at  the  bedside ;  the  physician  came 
up  in  a  few  moments ;  he  also  gazed  at  the  sleeper, 
and  pressing  his  finger  lightly  on  the  pulse,  sadly 
raised  his  eyes  toward  Herndon.  There  was  sorrow 
in  that  glance ;  it  needed  no  words ;  there  was  a  con 
firmation  of  his  worst  fears. 

"How  long  do  you  think  he  will  last,  doctor?" 
"  Not  over  a  few  hours ;  he  may  live  until  daylight, 
but  not  longer,"  was  the  reply. 

"  There  he  lay,  with  the  impress 
Indelible,  Death's  imago  on  his  brow." 

He  dispatched  servants  around  among  Ormond's 
nearest  friends,  who  readily  obeyed  the  summons. 

Through  the  long  watches  of  the  night  did  that 
group  of  mourners  stand  around  the  couch  of  the  true- 


240  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

hearted  Ormond,  and  many  were  the  tears  dropped  as 
they  gazed  at  the  noble  figure  lying  in  the  tyrant's 
grasp. 

The  wind  without  had  risen  greatly,  and  an  awful 
storm  was  careering  in  its  might  and  power  ;  and  the 
blast,  it  shrieked  and  howled ;  and  the  trees  groaned 
and  quivered  in  their  awful  contest  with  the  demon  of 
the  tempest.  Yivid  flashes  of  lightning  were  seen 
bursting  from  tho  bosom  of  the  black  cloud,  to  rend 
the  heavens,  while  the  rain  in  torrents  deluged  the 
earth.  It  was  a  fearful  night,  and  as  the  thunder 
roared  in  majesty,  human  beings  cowered  and  shrank 
with  fear. 

But  the  storm  passed  off,  the  wind  sank  into  low, 
sobbing  murmurs,  as  if  in  grief,  and  the  dawn  opened 
clear  and  beautiful.  He  still  lived,  still  sleeping  away 
the  little  remnant  of  time  which  remained  to  him ; 
yet  he  slept,  passing  to  the  deeper  and  profounder 
sleep,  which  knows  no  waking. 

Several  gentlemen  now  occupied  the  room.  The 
morning  light  was  shut  out  by  curtains,  and  a  dim 
twilight  pervaded  it.  The  shadow  of  death  had  settled 
on  all  around. 

He  awoke,  and,  gazing  around  with  a  fast  glazing 
eye  at  his  friends,  who  gathered  to  the  bedside,  mur 
mured, 

"  At  last,  the  destroyer  has  come  1" 

"  God's  will  be  done  !"  exclaimed  the  deep  voice  of 
the  minister,  who  had  arrived,  "  and  praised  be  His 
holy  name  I" 

"  Amen  1"  responded  Ormond,  fervently ;  which 
was  echoed  by  each  one. 

"  It  is  dark,"  he  whispered. 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  241 

"  Will  you  have  more  light?"  was  asked. 

A  look  of  assent  being  given,  the  curtains  were 
lifted,  and  the  light  streamed  into  the  apartment. 

The  negroes  had  assembted  around  the  door  outside, 
and  were  all  clamorous  for  admittance.  At  his  request 
it  was  opened,  and  they  came  thronging  in.  He  was 
too  weak  to  talk,  but  stretched  out  his  hand  to  all. 
As  some  favorite  servant  came  up,  and,  seizing  his 
weak  hand,  wept  piteously  over  it ;  he  gently  smiled. 
They  gathered  closer.  Some  fell  on  their  knees,  and 
wept  aloud ;  while  others  kissed  the  pale  hand,  and 
strode  out  of  the  room  to  indulge  their  grief  elsewhere. 

All  were  gone,  and  he  turned  his  dying  eyes  to  the 
circle  of  sorrowful  friends  gathered  around  him ;  his 
eye  brightened,  and  he  made  an  effort  to  extend  to 
them  his  hand.  Herndon  propped  him  up  with  pil 
lows.  First  one  friend,  and  then  another  came,  and 
pressed  his  hand.  They  were  all  too  much  filled  with 
sorrow  to  say  "  Farewell ;"  but  slowly,  silently,  and 
sadly,  they  stepped  back.  Others  now  take  his  thin 
hand,  but  they  can  not  say  "  Adieu  I"  He  falls  back 
exhausted  on  his  pillow,  from  which  he  had  slightly 
raised  his  head. 

Sobs  are  heard  from  many ;  stifled,  it  is  true,  but 
noble,  manly  yielding  to  nature. 

His  eyes  now  turn  on  Herndon  :  they  speak  of  love 
and  peace.  He  approaches  his  friend,  and,  taking  both 
his  hands,  kneels  by  the  couch;  he  presses  them  to 
his  bosom,  which  rises  and  heaves  as  a  tumultuous 
sea,  and  the  tears  flow  in  big,  scalding  drops.  But 
again  he  rises,  and  as  he  places  his  hand  on  Ormond's 
brow,  he  whispered,  "  It  is  come !"  and  sinks  lower 
down  on  his  pillow,  his  grasp  relaxes,  the  eyes  slowly 

11 


242  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

close,  and,  like  a  zephyr's  breath,  or  the  soft  note  of 
some  gentle  spirit  wandering  from  its  sphere,  the 
breath  leaves  him,  and  he  is  dead. 

"  It  is  all  over  1"  said  the  clergyman,  as  he  solemnly 
turned  to  depart.  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die 
in  the  Lord." 

Close  we  now  the  curtains.  The  Almighty  has 
taken  to  the  spirit's  home  the  soul  which  He  gave.  He 
has  called  back  a  noble,  generous,  and  just  being.  He 
rests  in  peace,  . 

' "  'Mid  holy  prayers,  and  generous  grief,  and  consecrating  blessings." 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

"  Can  storied  urn,  or  animated  bust, 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath  ? 
Can  Honor's  voice  provoke  the  silent  dust  ? 
Or  Flattery  soothe  the  dull,  cold  ear  of  Death?" 

GEAY. 

funeral  came,  with  its  solemn  pageants,  its 
gloomy  forms,  its  grief,  and  then  all  was  over. 

They  laid  the  honored  dead  beneath  the  spreading 
branches  of  the  noble  oak,  whose  grateful  shade  had 
so  often  sheltered  him  and  his  in  happier  days. 
There,  where  the  rank  grass  grew  around  him,  and 
the  banks  of  violets,  and  the  clematis,  breathing  soft 
perfume,  as  the  mournful  wind  sighed  through  the 
limbs  ;  and  the  little  bird  warbled  melody — he  rested, 
after  his  weary  pilgrimage  was  over. 

When  a  proper  period  had  elapsed,  and  Herndon 
could  nerve  himself  to  revisit  those  scenes  which  were 
fraught  with  so  much  emotion,  he  sought  the  dwelling 
of  his  late  friend,  and,  with  an  officer  of  the  law, 
placed  a  seal  upon  all  papers  and  valuables.  In  vain 
they  searched  the  house  for  the  package  which  Or- 
mond  had  mentioned  as  bearing  the  address  of  Hern 
don  ;  and,  when  masses  of  documents  had  been  over 
hauled,  and  the  negroes  questioned  concerning  it,  and 
it  did  not  appear,  they  came  to  the.  conclusion  that  he 
had  neglected  it. 

"  The  property  will  be  administered  on  ?" 


244  THE    CREOLE    ORPHAN'S. 

"  I  presume  so,  of  course,"  replied  Herndon. 

"  Who  will  administer?" 

"  I  know  not." 

"  Would  not  you,  as  an  intimate  friend,  be  the  most 
suitable  person  to  take  out  letters  ?" 

"  It  will  be  quite  impossible  for  me  to  do  it.  I  have 
my  hands  full,  and  may  be  called  to  New  York  any 
day,  on  business  which  must  riot  be  neglected." 

"  Who  else  is  there  ?"^ 

"No  one,  except  Hall." 

"Are  there  no  relatives  besides  his  children?" 

"None,  save  a  person  by  the  name  of  Talbot,  who 
resides  in  New  Orleans  ;  and  I  would  make  every  op 
position  in  my  power  to  prevent  the  administration 
being  given  to  him.  I  would  dislike  to  see  him  lord 
ing  it  over  this  property.  Although,  if  he  makes  an 
application  for  it,  there  may  be  no  way  of  preventing 
him  from  obtaining  it ;  and  the  only  hope  is,  that  he 
may  fail  in  giving  security.  I  fear  we  shall  have 
trouble  with  him.  He  may  also,  as  the  nearest  of  kin, 
be  appointed  curator  to  the  children." 

"  There  was  some  talk,  a  few  years  ago,"  remarked 
the  officer,  "  that  it  was  not  quite  right  between  Or- 
mond  and  his  wife.  Is  there  any  truth  in  it  ?" 

Herndon  colored  up  a  moment ;  his  eyes  flashed  at 
the  lightness  with  which  it  was  spoken ;  but  he  re 
membered  it  was  a  matter  of  public  notoriety,  and 
that  every  one  did  not  have  the  same  feelings  for  his 
departed  friend  as  filled  his  bosom.  He  therefore  re 
plied,  calmly,  "  The  matter  I  dread,  is  that  this  per 
son,  Talbot,  will  be  really  entitled  to  the  property, 
as  the  nearest  collateral  heir,  unless  Ormond  has  had 
an  act  of  manumission  passed,  and  legalized  his  mar- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  245 

riage,  which.  I  very  much  fear  he  has  neglected.  He 
left  home  with  the  intention  of  doing  so  ;  God  grant 
he  has  done  it ;  for  in  that  manner  alone  can  his  chil 
dren  inherit.  In  the  other  case,  the  property  will  go 
to  this  man." 

"  Did  the  colonel  never  mention  to  you  the  fact  of 
this  intention  ?" 

"  Certainly ;  it  was  a  frequent  conversation  between 
us ;  and  he  left  for  the  Weit  Indies  for  the  purpose  of 
taking  action  in  the  matter ;  but  alas !  all  are  gone 
who  accompanied  him :  two  are  dead,  and  one,  Dr. 
Grant,  if  living,  is  in  some  foreign  country  ;  for  I  have 
not  heard  of  him  since  the  death  of  his  wife  ;  and  I 
feel  convinced  that  if  Ormond  had  really  done  any 
thing,  we  would  have  known  it.  Now,  it  may  be  pos 
sible  that  Dr.  Grant  has  communicated  something  of 
the  matter  to  his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Hall." 

"  You  know  if  there  can  not  be  some  proof  found 
in  regard  to  it,  that  it  will  be  very  plain,  and  almost 
useless  to  contest  it." 

"J  am  aware  of  that;  oh!  Ormond,  my  friend,  to 
what  a  situation  you  have  reduced  those  dear  children 
by  your  only  fault,  procrastination;  noble  and  pure 
in  all  else,  you  have  fearfully  neglected  their  inter 
ests." 

"It  is  a  great  pity  that  the  children  should  be  thus 
cut  out  by  this  upstart.  Is  there  no  means  to  secure 
a  portion  at  least  for  them?" 

"  Only  by  the  liberality  of  the  heir,  unless  Ormond 
did  enfranchise  his  wife.  In  any  other  case,  the  girls 
are  totally  in  his  power.  Why,  oh !  why  did  I  not 
speak  out,  and  learn  all  before  he  died  1" 

"It  may  be  that  he  has  intrusted  the  papers  to 


246  THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS. 

some  one  in  the  city:  his  merchant,  perhaps,  or  the 
bank  where  he  kept  his  account." 

Herndon  brightened  up  at  this  idea.  "  God  bless 
you  for  that  suggestion  I"  he  said.  And  he  determined 
to  go  at  once  to  the  city,  and  make  a  thorough  examin 
ation,  and  not  to  give  it  up  until  it  was  folly  to  hope 
longer. 

They  mounted  their  horses.  Herndon  turned  and 
looked  back  at  the  housJ|  thoughts  of  sadness  filled 
his  bosom.  "  Oh  !  what  a  change  has  come  over  this 
once  happy  home,"  exclaimed  he.  "Where  are  the 
cheerful  faces  which  made  this  dwelling  light  with 
joy ;  they  are  gone,  and  desolation  reigns  over  all  1" 
He  cast  one  look  toward  Ormond's  grave,  and  dashing 
a  tear  from  his  eye,  quickly  rode  after  his  companion, 
who  had  gone  on  before.-  "But  Ormond!"  he  cried 
with  emphasis ;  "I  will  work  for  your  delay  I  and  by 
the  God  who  judges  us  all,  if  your  children  can  be 
righted  I  will  do  it ;  and  if  they  can  not,  they  shall  be 
mine  and  have  a  home  with  me  1" 

"  You  are  a  noble  fellow  I"  exclaimed  the  notary,  in 
admiration ;  "  but  you  know,  Herndon,  that  if  Or 
mond  never  did  free  his  wife  and  children,  they  are 
incapable  of  inheriting,  and  are  still  slaves." 

Herndon  turned,  and  his  eyes  glared  with  rage  at 
the  bare  thought.  "  Let  him  only  dare  to  breathe  that, 
and  I  will  put  things  to  rights  at  once,  and  a  comn 
shall  cover  his  unworthy  remains." 

The  notary  advised  him  to  apply  at  once  for  letters 
on  the  estate,  which  he  did  that  evening.  He  then 
rode  over  to  the  father-in-law  of  Dr.  Grant,  to  seek 
some  information.  The  doctor  did  not  reside  with  his 
wife's  parents,  but  near  them ;  he  thought  it  possible 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  247 

that  they  knew  something  concerning  their  trip  to  the 
"West  Indies ;  but  no  ! — when  they  returned,  the  ex 
treme  illness  of  Mrs.  Grant  had  shut  out  all  things 
else  of  lesser  importance,  and  he  had  never  mentioned 
any  thing  of  Colonel  Ormond's  affairs  in  connection 
with  the  trip. 

He  was  foiled  by  fate  again,  but  had  the  pleasure  of 
learning  that  a  letter  had  been  received  from  him  a 
few  weeks  before  ;  he  was  then  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
was  en  route  for  Vienna.  Herndon  sat  down  and  wrote 
a  letter  to  each  of  the  large  cities  where  Grant  had  re 
sided,  apprising  him  of  the  death  of  Ormond,  and 
begging  him  to  return  at  once,  to  assist  him  in  righting 
the  children  of  their  friend. 

He  at  the  same  time  wrote  a  letter  to  Zoe  and  Es- 
telle,  detailing  all  that  had  occurred,  and  ended  by 
offering  a  home  to  them  when  they  returned. 

He  then  sat  the  entire  night  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  alone ;  and  it  was  only  during  the  next  day,  that 
a  steamer  came  by,  and  he  was  enabled  to  obtain  a 
passage  to  the  city. 

Oh,  Talbot,  my  friend  1  look  sharp,  for  you  have  an 
active  and  vigilant  enemy  abroad ;  he  is  aroused,  and 
blood-hound  like,  will  return  again  and  again  on  the 
track,  and  earth  you  at  last.  He  is  a  man  of  work, 
and  will  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  upset  your  de 
signs  ;  be  careful,  or  you  will  fall. 

Herndon  stood  upon  the  guards  of  the  boat;  she 
passed  Ormond's  place ;  he  looked  fondly  upon  the 
now  tenantless  homestead ;  the  doors  and  windows 
closed,  and  not  a  living  thing  to  be  seen. — Yes  there 
was ;  it  was  Ormond's  riding  horse,  a  noble  bay  who 
was  cropping  disconsolately  in  the  front  yard,  ever 


248  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

and  anon  raising  his  finely-formed  head;  and  with 
pointed  ears  watching,  and  wondering  seemingly,  why 
the  favorite  hand  caressed  him  not. 

Upon  arriving  in  the  city  he  lost  no  time  in  making 
diligent  inquiries,  but  could  find  no  clew  to  guide 
him. 

Ormond's  factors,  nor  the  bank,  had  any  papers  in 
charge ;  and  he  visited  in  rotation  every  notary's  and 
record  office,  but  to  no  purpose.  He  then  sat  down 
to  quietly  await  the  issue  of  events,  determining  in 
his  own  mind  to  struggle  for  the  children  as  long  as 
there  was  a  "peg  to  hang  a  hope  upon,"  and  then  to 
appeal  to  the  manhood  and  generosity  of  Talbot. 

"We  said  that  he  visited  the  office  of  every  notary ; 
so  he  did,  but  there  was  the  ruins  of  a  building  then 
smoking  and  moldering  away,  as  he  passed  it.  Oh  ! 
had  he  known  that  here  was  the  office  where  his  friend 
had  inscribed  his  name,  and  delivered  his  children 
from  bondage.  This  was  the  office;  it  burned  last 
night ;  the  records  were  partly  consumed,  and  what 
were  not  were  carried  off  by  a  thoughtless  crowd. 
Alas !  poor  orphans ! 

The  papers  duly  chronicled  the  demise  of  Ormond, 
and  it  instantly  caught  the  eye  of  Talbot. 

"Now  has  the  game  to  be  boldly  played,"  he  said, 
while  a  flush  of  excitement  passed  over  his  face ;  and 
he  rapidly  strode  over  the  pavement  in  the  direction 
of  the  office  of  Hiver. 

"Well,  sir!"  he  exclaimed  breathlessly,  as  he 
rushed  into  the  den,  and  into  the  presence  of  the  wor 
thy  attorney,  who  was  engaged  in  red-taping  a  quan 
tity  of  papers;  "the  game  has  commenced,  and  you 
must  be  ready  to  accompany  me." 


THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS.  249 

"What?  eh?"  he  exclaimed,  smacking  his  ifiouth 
and  chewing  his  tobacco  violently,  while  the  filthy 
*  juice  coursed  in  a  stream  down  from  each  corner  of 
his  mouth. 

"Has  the  old  gentleman  earthed  himself  at  last?" 

"  At  last !  at  last !  and  I  have  lost  no  time  in  calling 
on  you,  I  intend  applying  at  once  for  letters  on  the 
estate." 

"  Ah,  exactly,  sir,  exactly.  Well,  there  is  but  one 
way,  sir ;  and  that  is  as  you  say — to  go  up  at  once — 
be  in  time,  and  apply  for  letters.  You  will  be  put  in 
possession,  and  you  know  that  possession  gives  title." 

"  You  think  that  I  have  the  best  right  to  administer  ?" 

"  Think !  of  course.  You  are  the  nearest  legal 
heir ;  they  can't  keep  you  out  of  it  at  all.  We  will 
do  every  thing  according  to  law ;  and  then,  you  see, 
no  advantage  can  be  taken  of  us.  I  am  a  law-abiding 
man,  sir;  indeed,  I  may  say  that  it  is  my  meat  and 
drink.  Ha,  ha !  Well,  sir,  I  am  ready  to  accompany 
you  when  you  will." 

"  Yery  good ;  then  meet  me  in  three  hours  in  the 
bar-room  of  the •  Hotel." 

"  Good,  I  am  there.  I  have  a  friend  to  see,  with 
whom  I  have  a  little  business,  when  I  go  away." 

"  Think  well  on  it,  Hiver,  and  don't  let  us  commit 
ourselves." 

"  Bah !  I  have  not  been  in  law  for  twenty  years  to 
make  a,  faux  pas  now.  I  will  put  you  straight,  if  you 
will  only  keep  so."  As  Talbot  turned  to  go  out,  he 
called  after  him.  "  Ah !  I  say,  that  was  a  very  lucky 
fire  night  before  last !  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  wasn't  it  ?  every 
paper  and  book  burned  up,  and  the  last  evidence 
destroyed  against  you.  Surely  the  gods  befriend  you." 

11* 


250  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

v 

"  The  devil,  perhaps,"  said  Talbot,  bitterly. 

"  Maybe  so,  maybe  so !"  laughed  Hiver,  "  but  it 
was  a  little  remarkable,  was  it  not?  It  saved  us  a 
world  of  trouble ;  but  we  will  make  a  good  thing  of  it." 

Talbot  walked  off. 

"The  crafty  old  villain,"  he  muttered;  "we  will 
make  a  good  thing  of  it.  Yes,  we  will ;  but  I  will 
take  good  care  that  you  don't  make  much  out  of  it ; 
let  me  get  into  possession  once,  and  I  '11  soon  cut  clear 
of  you.  All  you  want  is  to  get  me  into  your  toils, 
and  have  a  fat  pigeon  to  pluck ;  but  maybe  you  will." 

Hiver  stood  in  his  dingy  office ;  and,  as  he  watched 
the  receding  form  of  Talbot,  he  bent  his  brows;  ex 
claiming,  "  The  upstart !  he  already  assumes  airs  ;  he 
is  a  rascal,  and  would  just  as  soon  rob  an  orphan,  or 
burn  a  will,  as  not ;  he  is  timid  and  suspicious.  I  '11 
watch  him ;  for  as  soon  as  he  gets  into  possession,  he 
would  just  as  soon  drop  me  as  a  hot  horse-shoe,  and 
pick  up  some  of  our  fashionable  lawyers  up  town ;  but 
I  '11  keep  him  in  check,  and  feather  my  nest  any  how." 

Such  was  the  opinion  of  two  great  rascals  of  each 
other. 

Talbot  hastens  up  town;  he  calls  at  his  place  of 
business ;  states  to  his  employer  the  fact  of  the  death 
of  his  relation,  and  of  his  intention  to  administer  on 
the  estate.  They  accepted  his  resignation.  Stamps, 
at  his  request,  followed  suit.  To  a  clothing-store  they 
then  repaired,  and  fitted  themselves  out  in  a  suit  of 
black ;  and,  as  the  hour  drew  near,  sought  the  appoint 
ment  with  Hiver,  whom  they  found  awaiting  them. 

'Not  many  hours  elapsed  before  they  were  steaming 
up  the  Mississippi.  Talbot  already  felt  his  import 
ance  ;  and  as  he  puffed  his  cigar,  and  sported  a  large 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  251 

gold-headed  cane  on  deck,  he  cast  a  look  of  super 
cilious  contempt  on  all  around. 

"  "Well,  we  should  make  a  pretty  thing  of  it  now,  if 
there  were  a  paper  to  be  drawn  on  us  in  open  "court, 
enfranchising  the  wife  and  children,"  exclaimed  Hiver. 

"Don't  conjure  up  phantoms,  Hiver;  there  is  no 
danger  of  that.  I  have  heard  conversations  enough 
to  satisfy  myself." 

Hiver,  crafty  and  unprincipled,  gave  him  many 
useful  hints  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued,  and  placed 
him  in  a  safe  position  in  regard  to  the  succession. 
Pooi? Stamps!  he  was  overjoyed;  and  felt  as  if  he 
owned  all  Louisiana.  He  stood  on  the  guards,  and 
every  now  and  then  asked  Talbot  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  Is  our  plantation  any  thing  like  that  one?"  pointing 
to  some  handsome  residence.  This  mortified  Talbot 
excessively,  who  took  Stamps  aside,  and  represented 
tcuhim  the  ridicule  to  which  he  was  exposing  himself. 
Stamps  promised  amendment;  and  kept  his  word 
while  Talbot  was  present;  but  as  soon  as  he  had 
walked  off,  he  was  describing  our  plantation  to  a  com 
pany  of  strangers,  and  gave  many  an  invitation  to 
stop.  He  grew  very  vivacious,  drank  freely,  and 
every  stranger  who  would  drink  with  him  shared  his 
generosity.  He  even  got  down  among  the  deck 
hands,  and  treated  several  of  them. 

At  last  the  well-known  place  was  brought  in  view, 
and  Talbot  felt  some  queer  emotions,  which  he  could 
not  account  for. 

Upon  reaching  the  plantation,  Talbot  took  posses 
sion,  and  installed  himself  in  the  dwelling.  It  was 
evening,  but  the  overseer  at  once  dispatched  a  mes 
senger  for  Mr.  Herndon ;  who  came  at  the  summons, 


252  THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS. 

and  proceeded  to  the  house.  In  the  gallery  he  met 
Talbot,  whose  countenance  fell  when  he  saw  him. 
There  was  evident  restraint  on  his  part,  when  he 
greeted  Herndon,  whose  lip  was  compressed,  and 
whose  brow  lowered.  He  was  at  first  furious;  but 
upon  second  thoughts,  he  calmed  himself  as  well  as 
he  could. 

"  Mr.  Talbot,"  he  observed,  after  a  long  silence ; 
"  I  learn  that  you  come  to  take  possession  of  this  prop 
erty?" 

"  That  was  my  intention,  sir,"  he  answered,  but  in 
evident  agitation.  'Jib  s  • 

"  It  appears  that  you  are  acting  under  advictf,  sir. 
I  presume  that  you  come  prepared  with  ample  proof 
that  you  are  really  the  relation  of  Colonel  Ormond?" 

"He  was  my  cousin,  by  my  mother's  side,"  he 
answered,  averting  his  eyes ;  "he  always  acknowl 
edged  me  as  his  relation,  and  I  do  not  see  that  any 
one  is  called  to  dispute  it." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Herndon,  sternly;  "  I  was  the  dear 
friend  of  Ormond ;  we  were  more  than  usually  inti 
mate.  I  loved  him;  a  nobler  or  purer  man  never 
lived.  If  you  are  the  relation  of  my  deceased  friend, 
you  must  substantiate  that  fact ;  and,  sir,  until  you  do, 
you  can  not  claim  any  thing  here.  If  you  ever  do 
own  a  slave  on  this  place,  you  must  do  it  under  the 
sanction  of  the  law ;  and,  if  you  try  to  take  any  advan 
tage  of  your  situation,  you  shall  answer  to  me  per 
sonally." 

"  I  will  protect  the  interests  of  my  client,"  exclaimed 
Hiver. 

"  And  who  the  deuce  are  you,  sir  ?"  asked  Herndon, 
with  a  glance  of  supreme  disdain. 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  253 

"  I  am  tlie  attorney,  sir,  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Talbot, 
who  has  done  me  the  honor  of  selecting  me  from  the 
bar  of  New  Orleans ;  and  we  desire  nothing  but  what 
is  fair  and  right." 

"  I  will  see  that  you  have  it,  sir." 

"  The  children  of  Colonel  Ormond  can  not  inherit 
— they  are  illegitimate ;  and,  if  you  examine  the  law, 
you  will  find  that  I  am  correct.  At  least,  we  will  try 
it  on  that  ground,  for  they  never  have  been  acknowl 
edged.  They  can  not  even  claim  alimony ;  and,  if  re 
port  speaks  true,  they  could  not  inherit  even  were  there 
no  legal  heir — they  have  never  been  even  emancipated." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  information,"  said 
Herndon,  bitterly ;  "I  do  not  know  if  it  is  as  you 
represent ;  but  I  will  know.  I  am  aware  that  Ormond 
left  here  for  the  purpose  once ;  and  I  assure  you  that 
I  will  move  heaven  and  earth  to  see  the  orphans 
righted.  I  advise  you,  Mr.  Talbot,  to  be  very  cautious 
in  your  actions ;  for  this  matter  has  to  be  taken  into 
court ;  and  I  shall  contest  your  claim." 

"  We  do  not  fear  you  on  a  fair  trial,"  said  Hiver ; 
"  and  we  defy  you  or  any  one  else  to  uptrip  us." 

"  Did  I  speak  to  you,  sir?"  replied  Herndon,  casting 
a  withering  look  of  rebuke  and  contempt,  upon  the 
abashed  lawyer ;  who  timidly  stammered,  "N — n — no 
sir." 

"  Well,  then,  wait  until  I  do.  Mr.  Talbot,  I  see  you 
have  had  advisers.  I  shall  not  take  any  advantage  of 
you ;  and  I  only  hope,  if  you  are  successful  in  defraud 
ing  the  orphan  children  of  your  benefactor,  that  you 
will,  at  least,  act  magnanimously." 

Talbot  was  about  to  reply,  when  Hiver  quickly  in- 


254  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

terposed,  "  No — no,  sir  I  I  can  not  allow  my  client  to 
commit  himself  in  any  manner." 

"Miserable  puppy!"  cried  Herndon,  his  eyes  shin 
ing  like  those  of  an  enraged  tiger,  "  I  have  half  a  mind 
to  kick  you  from  the  gallery.  If  the  man  had  a  noble 
thought,  you  would  blight  it  with  your  poisonous 
breath." 

"  If  you  were  to  offer  violence  to  me,  I  would  com 
mence  an  action  against  you." 

"  Confound  your  action,"  he  answered,  "  keep  si 
lence  in  my  presence." 

"  Mr.  Talbot,  you  can  not  remain  here,  as  you  ought 
to  have  known.  I  will  not  have  the  dwelling  of  my 
friend  polluted  and  even  the  sound  of  your  blackguard 
ism,  echoing  over  his  newly  made  grave." 

"  Mr.  Herndon,"  he  answered  at  a  wink  from  Hiver, 
"  I  desire  nothing  but  justice ;  if  I  gain  the  case,  no  man 
shall  reproach  me  for  a  want  of  generosity.  I  loved 
Ormond,  and  the  tears  I  have  shed  are  not  few.  I 
shall  take  no  liberty  but  with  your  consent.  I  will 
quietly  remain  here  until  the  decision  of  the  suit,  if 
there  is  one  commenced  ;  but  I  believe  you  will  think 
better  of  it ;  you  are  much  mistaken  in  me,  sir." 

"  God  grant  it,"  he  said  fervently,  "  the  law  will  de 
cide  it,  but  as  for  staying  here,  that  is  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  Why,  the  very  corpse  of  Ormond  would  rise  and 
walk  in  its  shroud,  at  such  desecration ;  no,  sir,  you 
must  leave  here  in  the  morning." 

Having  spoken  this  with  a  determined  air,  he  step 
ped  from  the  gallery,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
away  with  dignity. 

"  There  goes  a  determined  fellow,"  said  Hiver,  "  and 
one  who  should  be  propitiated ;  but  we  are  safe,  and  he 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  255 

knows  it.  "When  a  man  begins  to  talk  of  a  compro 
mise,  and  being  generous,  his  case  is  bad." 

"  Well,  all  I  hate  is  that  we  have  to  leave  such  com 
fortable  quarters."  exclaimed  Stamps,  "  where  in  thun 
der  can  we  stay  ?" 

"Down  at /'replied  Talbot.  "I  tell  you,  I 

can't  enjoy  myself  here  now.  I  am  all  the  time  think 
ing  how  often  I  have  seen  Ormond  here  in  this  gallery, 
and  I  almost  expect  to  hear  his  voice  every  moment 
now.'  I  can  see  him  all  the  time,  as  he  used  to  look ; 
and,  when  Herndon  spoke  of  his  walking  in  his  shroud 
the  very  flesh  crept  on  my  bones.  No,  no,  we  will  go 
down  to in  the  morning,  and  get  a  good  comfort 
able  place  to  stay  until  we  get  the  letters." 

"  And  then  take  possession,"  said  Hiver,  "  that 's  the 
way  to  do  it." 

A  walk  was  now  proposed  over  the  estate.  We  will 
not  attempt  a  description  of  the  feelings  of  Talbot,  as 
they  roamed  over  the  wide  domain,  and  viewed  the 
fields  of  waving  cane,  the  product  of  which  might  be 
all  his  own.  He  remembered  when  he  first  came,  a 
beggar,  now  in  a  situation  to  dispute  possession. 

"  Truly  this  is  a  splendid  property,"  exclaimed 
Hiver,  as  they  once  more  entered  the  yard  on  their 
return ;  "  and  one  to  battle  bravely  for."  / 

Each  echoed  the  sentiment. 

Upon  the  death  of  Ormond,  all  the  servants  about 
the  house  had  been  placed  in  the  field,  except  old  Syl 
via,  Marie's  nurse,  and  a  few  ancient  negroes  in  the 
Quarter.  Eobert  was  now  sent  back,  to  pay  attention 
to  the  self-made  guests,  and  prepare  for  them, 

It  was  night,  and  the  three  friends  were  sitting  in 
the  parlor ;  lights  were  brought  in,  and  after  the  meal 


256  THE    CEEOLE    OEPHANS. 

was  over,  which  none  enjoyed,  they  again  returned  to 
the  room.  There  was  a  strange  uncomfortable  sensa 
tion  about  the  guests,  that  they  could  not  shake  off; 
every  thing  seemed  so  cold,  dead  and  silent ;  so  un 
like  what  would  be  expected  to  be  the  feelings  of  an 
heir,  just  taking  possession  of  a  splendid  estate. 
Around  Talbot's  heart,  there  was  a  cold,  dead  weight 
clinging  as  if  the  icy  hands  of  the  departed  encircled 
it,  compressed  it,  and  was  stopping  its  pulsations.  He 
wished  that  it  was  daylight. 

"  "Well  if  this  house  is  not  haunted,"  exclaimed  the 
lawyer ;  "  I  never  could  believe  I  could  be  so  singularly 
affected." 

All  confessed  to  the  same  feeling. 

"  Kobert,"  asked  Talbot,  "  is  there  not  some  kind  of 
spirit  here  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  plenty  of  it." 

"  Then  let  us  have  some,  my  good  boy." 

The  servant  retired,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  entered, 
bearing  a  decanter.  Stamps  took  it,  and  was  about  to 
fill  a  glass  when,  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "It  is 
blood." 

The  shock  to  all  three  was  so  great  that  they  sprang 
to  their  feet,  and  remained  looking  in  each  other's  faces 
in  alarm. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Hiver,  taking  the  decanter, 
"  Why  it  is  brandy  only."  No  one  spoke  and  none 
could  drink. 

Talbot  walked  out  to  the  gallery.  He  had  noticed 
that  he  had  seen  nothing  of  Pierre  since  his  arrival, 
and  he  was  now  wondering  where  he  was,  as  he  stood 
leaning  against  the  hand-rail  at  the  end  of  the  house. 
As  he  remained  in  that  position,  musing  with  his  eyes 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  257 

cast  toward  Ormond's  grave,  a  shudder  passed  over  his 
frame.  At  this  moment  he  fancied  he  observed  a  move 
ment  in  the  shrubbery  near  the  gate.  Timid  as  well  as 
very  suspicious,  he  was  about  to  withdraw,  fearing  he 
hardly  knew  what,  when  he  heard  a  low  whistle  in 
the  direction.  He  watched  closely,  and  was  about  to 
retreat  hastily  when  he  heard  his  own  name  pro 
nounced  in  a  whisper.  Surprise  for  a  moment  rendered 
him  motionless ;  but  he  thought  an  instant,  and  then 
in  a  low  tone  asked. 

"Who  is  there?" 

"  Me/'  was  the  reply. 

"And  who  is  me?" 

"Pierre." 

"  Oh,  Pierre ;   where  did  you  come  from,  Pierre  ?" 

No  answer  was  returned ;  but  the  speaker  advanced 
from  the  shadow  of  the  evergreens,  and  softly  came  to 
where  Talbot  was  standing.  He  drew  close  up  to  him 
and  pulling  a  package  from  his  bosom,  the  same  he 
had  stolen  from  his  master's  cabinet,  as  we  have  de 
tailed,  placed  it  in  Talbot's  hands,  Just  then  Stamps 
came  out,  and  with  a  spring  Pierre  threw  himself  over 
the  hand-rail,  and  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  Tal 
bot  hastily  concealed  the  package  in  his  bosom. 

They  all  retired,  but  not  to  sleep.  Hiver,  to  study 
and  dream  of  the  fat  fees  he  saw  in  prospect.  Stamps 
felt  that  he  had  got  a  home  at  last,  and  so  that  he  had 
his  necessary  wants  supplied,  and  his  passions  grati 
fied,  he  cared  for  little  else. 

No  sleep  visited  the  couch  of  Talbot.  He  had  a 
room  to  himself,  and  when  he  had  undressed  he  hung 
his  clothes  over  the  keyhole  of  the  door,  and  drawing 
close  the  shutters,  sat  himself  down  to  study.  He 


258  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

dared  not  open  the  package,  he  feared  a  dreadful  reve 
lation,  he  knew  not  what;  he  picked  up  a  prayer- 
book  and  turned  over  the  pages.  He  started  with 
horror — there,  in  the  well-known  hand  of  Ormond, 
were  these  words  in  pencil,  written  on  the  margin  of 
the  page — "  My  days  are  numbered.  I  am  alone.  Into 
Thy  hands  I  commit  my  orphan  children.  Wilt  Thou 
protect  them,  oh}  Qodf 

Feelings  of  terror  took  possession  of  his  mind,  and 
he  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  the  wronged  Ormond. 
This  was  then  the  room  in  which  he  died.  Mayhap 
his  spirit  was  then  hovering  over  him,  with  vengeful 
looks  and  fearful  warnings.  Had  the  Almighty  thus 
guided  him  to  view  the  enormity  of  his  villainy  ?  He 
was  almost  tempted  to  resign  all  claim  to  the  estate; 
and  act  the  honest  man;  but  then  thoughts  of  the 
broad  lands,  with  the  teeming  fields,  which  might  be 
all  his  own  for  the  extending  of  his  hand  and  grasp 
ing  them,  came  across  his  mind,  and  he  arose,  shook 
off  his  fears,  and  smiled  at  his  own  cowardice.  He 
grasped  the  packet ;  he  determined  to  know  the  worst. 
He  examined  the  address ;  he  tore  off  the  cover,  and 
found  a  letter  addressed  to  Zoe  and  Estelle.  With 
nervous  agitation  he  opened  it,  and  there  drank  in 
with  eagerness  its  contents.  There  were  burning  elo 
quence  and  pathos  in  its  tone,  deep  and  feeling ;  there 
were  sorrow  and  agony  portrayed  in  those  lines. 
Here  Ormond  appealed  to  his  children  by  the  memory 
of  their  parents,  by  every  tie  which  was  held  sacred, 
by  a  voice  from  the  grave,  to  so  act  that  no  blot  should 
ever  come  on  their  name.  There  he  laid  bare  their 
mother's  unhappy  career,  and  he  closed  with  the 
crowning  deed,  which  emancipated  them  from  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  259 

ban  which  had  hung  over  them.  Talbot  was  thunder- 
stricken,  he  trembled  with  terror,  the  paper  fell  from 
his  nerveless  grasp  upon  the  floor,  he  seized  the  other 
package,  There  he  found  a  confirmation  of  the  fears 
which  the  other  had  excited.  Inclosed  were  all  the 
papers  which  had  been  obtained  in  Martinique,  not 
even  excluding  the  marriage  certificate  and  a  copy  of 
the  declaration  of  the  dying  woman  who  had  so  long 
acted  as  Marie's  aunt.  He  sat  like  one  stupified  ;  he 
felt  that  he  was  on  the  brink  of  a  fearful  precipice, 
and  closed  his  eyes ;  he  dared  not  gaze  over,  for  black 
ness  and  death  were  beneath  him.  He  looked  up; 
his  eyes  strained  in  fright.  Leaping  from  his  seat,  he 
paced  the  room  violently,  he  gasped  for  breath,  he 
dared  not  think ;  turn  where  he  would,  the  form  of 
Ormond  stood  before  him !  There,  with  his  great 
mild  eyes,  he  stood  the  very  incarnation  of  sorrow. 
The  form  paced  the  room  by  Talbot's  side,  and  gazed 
sadly  and  reproachfully  at  him ;  then,  assuming  a 
threatening  aspect,  the  orbs  seemed  to  grow  larger, 
and  bloody  with  rage.  Again  the  shape  would  change, 
and  with  glaring  eyes  and  gnashing  teeth,  with  revenge 
and  hatred  speaking  in  its  hideous  countenance,  the 
fiend  stood  before  him.  There  was  the  eye,  emitting 
coruscations  of  flame,  the  sarcastic  grin,  aud  the  deep 
malice  of  the  infernal  being,  all  before  him,  all  palpa 
ble,  all  expressed.  The  frightened  wretch  sunk  upon 
his  knees,  and  in  trembling  agony  exclaimed,  "  God 
save  me  I"  He  opened  his  eyes ;  he  was  alone ;  he 
looked  shudderingly  around ;  his  flesh  still  crept,  and 
his  heart  beat  faint  and  slow.  "With  a  desperate  energy 
given  by  despair,  he  hastily  gathered  together  the 
papers  which  lay  scattered  over  the  floor,  and  not 


260  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

even  opening  one  which  was  addressed  to  Herndon, 
rushed  to  the  fire-place.  There  was  no  fire  in  the 
hearth  ;  it  had  been  carefully  cleaned  and  whitewashed 
since  the  funeral,  but  he  took  the  candle,  and  applied 
the  light  to  the  mass.  He  watched  the  flames  as  they 
curled  around  the  last  words  of  the  noble  Ormond, 
and  smiled  with  a  devilish  satisfaction  when  he  saw 
the  latest  spark  die  out,  and  the  whole  sink  to  a  heap 
of  black  cinders.  He  deliberately  gathered  them  up, 
and  dusting  the  remainder  off  with  his  handkerchief, 
went  to  the  window.  Fool!  he  had  burnt  only  comes 

\J  -L 

of  the  originals. 

"  Here,  I  consign  you  to  the  winds  of  heaven,"  he 
said.  '  "I  defy  you  to  return  in  any  shape  to  inform 
on  me.  I  am  safe,  safe,  now !" 

A  deep  groan  answered  him.  He  started  wildly, 
and  hastily  looked  around. 

"  I  certainly  heard  something,"  he  exclaimed,  anx 
iously.  "  Or  can  it  be  my  imagination  ?  Cursed  fool  I 
was,  to  be  frightened  by  a  sound  so  trivial.  Mayhap 
this  is  what  they  call  conscience" 

He  then  sat  down,  and  as  he  thus  reclined,  his 
brain  conjured  up  phantoms.  Again  the  stately  form 
of  Ormond  stood  before  him. 

"  Can  this  be  reality  ?"  asked  he,  as  he  closed  his 
eyes,  and,  opening  them  again,  found  the  specter  be 
fore  him  still.  This  time  the  face  wore  an  expression 
only  of  rage  and  vengeance;  the  brows  were  con 
tracted,  and  the  lurid  light  which  shot  from  the  eyes 
seemed  to  shed  a  lambent  and  unearthly  glow,  like  a 
halo,  around  the  figure.  The  winding-sheet  hung 
loosely  from  its  form,  and  the  phantom  slowly  raised 
the  right  hand  in  a  threatening  attitude.  Talbot's 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  261 

straining  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the  fearful  form ;  his 
pulse  seemed  to  cease  to  beat;  a  cold  perspiration 
broke  out  over  his  body ;  his  hair  bristled ;  he  tried 
to  avert  his  eyes,  but  they  were  fascinated  by  the  stu 
pefaction  of  horror.  9  An  owl  sat  near  the  window  in 
a  tree,  the  messenger-bird  of  Death !  whose  voice  of 
doom 

"  Tells  of  the  shroud,  and  the  cold  damp  tomb, 
Where  festering  corpses  lie." 

Talbot  sat  still— 

"  With  listening  ear,  and  bristling  hair, 
And  blood  in  his  veins  that  froze ; 
Like  a  voice  of  doom,  through  that  silent  room, 
An  ominous  sound  arose, 
A  blended  cry  of  wrath  and  woe, 
"With  anguish  keen  and  fell, 
Like  the  wail  of  a  soul  in  the  pit  below, 
Condemned  to  the  nethermost  hell" 

As  the  sound  arose  on  the  midnight  air,  and  the 
flesh  shrunk  and  quivered  in  terror,  he  sprang  to  the 
door,  and,  hastily  unlocking  it.  rushed  from  the  room, 
alarmed  and  nearly  bereft  of  his  reason.  Stamps, 
alarmed  also  by  the  sudden  intrusion,  as  Talbot 
bounded  into  the  room,  leaped  out  of  bed,  and  began 
to  call  aloud.  This  awoke  Hiver,  who  had  dropped 
off  asleep ;  he  ran  to  the  window  and  tried  to  throw 
it  up,  but  the  sash,  being  fastened  down  with  a  spring, 
defied  his  utmost  efforts.  He  then  sought  to  find  the 
door,  but  stumbled  over  a  chair,  and  fell  headlong  on 
the  floor.  This  added  to  the  alarm  of  the  others,  who 
feared  a  new  irruption,  and  commenced  crying  out  in 
concert.  Hiver,  finding  matters  in  this  fix,  sneaked 
under  the  bed. 


262  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  Is  this  you,  Billy  ?"  cried  Talbot,  as  he  seized  him 
by  the  leg. 

"  Yes ;  is  that  you,  Tolly  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Oh !  the  devil  is  come,  Billy !" 

"  The  devil  he  has  1  where  is  he  ?"  cried  Stamps, 
who,  now  that  he  had  time  to  become  cool  and  thor 
oughly  awakened,  regained  his  courage. 

"  Oh !  he  is  in  the  other  room,  Billy  1" 

"  There  is  a  light  there  1" 

"  Yes,  yes :  shut  the  door." 

"  Tolly,  it 's  my  opinion  that  you  are  a  cursed  cow 
ard.  What !  run  from  the  devil  when  you  had  a  can 
dle  in  the  room  ?  I  '11  go  and  see  the  old  fellow ;" 
and  here  he  sprang  off  the  bed,  and  walked  into  the 
room. 

"  Well,  Tolly,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  returned  with 
the  light,  "  he 's  gone,  and  I  don't  believe  a  word  you 
say." 
v    "  I  '11  swear  I  saw  and  heard  him." 

"Pshaw!  faldelal!  all  gammon!" 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,"  cried  the  lawyer,  poking  his 
head  out  from  the  bed,  where  he  had  sneaked  when 
Stamps  had  gone  for  the  light,  "  you  both  came  mighty 
near  catching  it.  I  heard  the  noise,  and  was  about  to 
fire,  when  I  distinguished  your  voices.  As  for  myself, 
I  never  became  alarmed.  I  am  the  coolest  man  you 
ever  saw."  And  with  this  valiant  lie  in  his  mouth,  he 
pulled  the  cover  over  his  head,  and  addressed  himsell 
to  sleep. 

"  Indeed  I"  answered  Stamps,  laughing ;  "  then  per- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  263 

haps  you  will  go  and  take  Tolly's  place  in  the  other 
room,  and  let  him  have  your  bed  ?" 

"Thank  you!"  muttered  Hiver,  from  under  the 
bed-clothes ;  "  not  any." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

•*  0,  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  affright  us  1" 

next  morning,  after  breakfast,  our  three  friends 
reluctantly  left  the  dwelling,  and  proceeded  to  the 
parish-town,  which  was  the  seat  of  justice.  Talbot 
formally  petitioned  for  the  administration  of  the  es 
tate  of  Colonel  Ormond,  when  they  learned  that  Mr. 
Herndon  had  been  on  the  same  errand ;  to  which  they 
made  an  objection  filed  in  writing.  This  was  done  by 
the  advice  of  Hiver,  who  was  confident  of  his  rejec 
tion  by  the  judge.  There  remained  nothing  now  to  do 
but  to  take  matters  quietly  until  the  expiration  of  the 
ten  days  authorized  by  law.  Hiver,  in  the  mean  time, 
remained  with  Talbot.  They  occupied  a  room  at  the 
principal  hotel,  where  they  formed  acquaintances, 
hunted,  and  fished  in  the  surrounding  country,  and 
sought  to  gain  friends  and  popularity. 

The  ten  days  expired,  and  an  early  day  was  set  for 
the  hearing  of  the  rival  claimants.  They  were  all 
there,  at  the  office  of  the  judge,  and,  as  they  sat, 
anxiously  awaiting  the  commencement  of  the  case, 
Mr.  Herndon  rode  up.  He  was  very  pale  and  stern, 
and  spoke  to  all  with  a  subdued  gravity.  The  case 
came  on,  and  was  argued  at  some  length  by  the  coun 
sel.  It  was  contended  that  there  was  no  positive  evi 
dence  to  show  that  Talbot  was  Ormond's  relative.  To 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  265 

this,  Hiver  replied  that  he,  Ormond,  had  always  ac 
knowledged  him  as  a  relation,  and  that,  as  the  nearest 
collateral  relative,  in  default  of  any  claimant  in  the 
direct  line,  his  client  was  entitled  to  the  administrator 
ship.  He  then  called  on  several  persons,  and  Mr 
Herndon  himself,  who,  on  oath,  testified  to  the  accu 
racy  of  the  statement.  It  went  very  hard  with  the 
judge  to  make  the  decision,  but  he  was  compelled  to 
set  aside  the  claims  of  Herndon,  and  Talbot  was  in 
formed  that  he  should  administer  the  estate. 

Great  were  the  congratulations  which  Hiver  and 
Stamps  showered  on  Talbot,  who  took  it  very  calmly. 
The  next  thing  to  be  done,  was  to  give  the  requisite 
security.  This  was  easily  done  ;  for  during  the  week 
previous,  Hiver  had  so  represented  the  matter,  as  to 
actually  interest  the  •  sympathy  of  several  persons  in 
the  town,  who,  when  the  bond  was  given,  walked  in 
without  scruple,  and  signed  it. 

Thus  much  was  completed,  and  nothing  now  re 
mained  to  be  done,  but  to  have  an  inventory  taken  of 
the  estate.  The  appointment  of  Talbot  annoyed  Mr. 
Herndon  considerably.  He  went  to  the  city,  and  con 
suited  distinguished  counsel.  They  could  give  him  no 
hope,  unless  he  could  prove  Talbot  to  be  an  impostor. 

This  he  could  not  do,  as  he  was  well  aware  that 
Ormond  had  always  recognized,  and  introduced  him  as 
a  relative,  and  therefore  he  was  entitled  to  the  adminis 
tration.  Herndon  was  almost  outdone,  and  he  turned 
his  face  homeward  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  await  pa 
tiently  news  from  the  only  one  living  who  could  set 
the  matter  at  rest.  This  was  Dr.  Grant. 

The  season  sped  on,  and  Talbot  removed  to  the 
plantation  permanently.  Hiver  returned  to  his  busi- 

12 


266  THE    CEEOLE    OKPHANS. 

ness  in  the  city  for  the  time.  The  newly  installed 
gentleman,  with  his  man,  gave  dinner-parties  and  wine- 
parties,  or  discharged  one  overseer  and  engaged  an 
other.  Old  Pierre  was  his  right-hand  man,  but  he 
was  made  to  know  his  place ;  for  Talbot  felt  tolerably 
certain  now,  that  when  the  tug  of  war  came,  he  would 
be  pronounced  the  heir ;  and  he  had  no  more  use  for 
Pierre.  He  tried  to  gain  popular^.  The  neighbors 
came,  and  enjoyed  his  hospitality ;  they  went  away 
with  a  secret  feeling  of  dislike.  There  was  a  something 
— a  feeling  of  restraint  apparent  in  all  their  actions ; 
not  that  frank  and  open-hearted  demeanor  which 
comes  from  a  warm  welcome,  as  in  times  of  old.  They 
looked  upon  their  host  with  suspicion  and  dislike,  and 
he  felt  it,  but  determined  to  outlive  prejudice. 

Stamps  was  in  his  glory :  he  drank  and  smoked 
with  the  guests,  slapped  them  on  the  back,  and  called 
them  "  mighty  clever  fellows."  He  played  whist,  and 
related,  much  to  the  horror  of  Talbot,  many  little 
amusing  passages  from  their  lives,  while  clerks  in  the 
North.  When  the  guests  were  gone,  Talbot  would 
take  Stamps  to  task;  and,  after  a  good  lecture,  he 
would  promise  to  be  more  careful  in  future,  and  not  to 
repeat  the  offense. 

"  Your  tongue  will  be  your  ruin,  Billy,"  he  said, 
"  let  our  former  life  alone ;  let  it  lie  buried ;  for  there 
is  nothing  pleasant  in  the  retrospect,  and  it  only 
makes  my  visitors  feel  a  contempt  for  you." 

"  Well,  Tolly,  I  don't  mean  any  thing ;  but  I  feel 
so  good,  to  think  I  can  do  just  as  I  choose,  and  that 
we  have  got  plenty  without  clerking ;  but  I  won't  do 
so  any  more,  if  you  will  only  give  me  a  hint  when 
you  hear  me  going  to  do  it." 


THE    CKEOLE    OKPHANS.  267 

It  was  now  that  Talbot  thought  it  time  to  act  in 
regard  to  Zoe  and  Estelle.  He  would  have  had  him 
self  appointed  curator  ad  bona  to  them,  merely  to 
keep  them  in  his  power,  if  he  had  not  been  afraid 
that  by  this  act  he  would  have  made  a  tacit  acknowl 
edgment  that  the  children  had  rights ;  and,  if  there 
were  no  tutor  appointed,  it  would  be  presumptive  evi 
dence  that  they  had  no  estate  to  administer. 

"You  are  right,"  remarked  Hiver;  "let  Herndon 
be  appointed,  if  he  will ;  but  your  being  tutor  would 
prevent  you  from  ever  extending  your  claim  over 
them ;  for  this  may  have  to  be  done.  You  have  got 
every  point  on  your  side  now,  but  see  that  you  don't 
overreach  yourself;  for  your  claim  and  theirs  must 
conflict.  They  will  then  be  represented  by  a  curator 
ad  litem.  No,  sir!  don't  you  touch  it.  They  may 
even  be  natural  children,  and  obtain  a  good  slice  out 
of  your  estate." 

It  had  got  whispered  around,  somehow,  that  Talbot 
intended  to  contest  the  claim  of  the  children  through 
illegitimacy ;  and  curses  loud  and  deep  were  uttered 
by  the  neighbors,  when  they  thought  of  the  orphan 
girls ;  but  they  were  powerless,  and  could  do  nothing. 

Sometimes  Talbot  was  determined  on  going  on  to 
Paris  for  the  girls,  marrying  one  of  them,  and  then, 
feeling  secure,  set  the  world  at  defiance ;  but  he 
thought  if  he  did,  it  would  not  agree  with  his  contract 
with  Stamps,  who  would  claim  the  other ;  and  then 
he  would  have  an  equal  right  with  him  there.  ISTo ! 
that  would  never  do!  He  could  never  share  that 
property  with  another.  Besides,  he  had  long  deter 
mined  to  get  rid  of  Stamps ;  he  was  an  incubus  on 
him,  and  no  assistance  whatever ;  but  he  intended  to 


268  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

use  him  soon,  and  was  preparing  himself.  He  sent 
funds  to  the  Superior  of  the  school,  for  Zoe  and  Es- 
telle,  and  wrote  them  a  kind  and  feeling  letter,  with 
the  information  that  he  would  ever  provide  for  them. 
To  the  Superior,  he  mentioned  that  he  would  ere  long 
dispatch  a  friend  to  Paris  for  his  cousins,  and  that  she 
must  prepare  to  lose  them. 

All  this  while  Herndon  was  not  idle — he  was 
making  inquiries  in  every  direction — and  worked 
night  and  day  for  the  benefit  of  the  orphans.  He, 
however,  made  no  discoveries.  He  saw  with  pain 
that  the  fine  property  was  diminishing  in  value,  from 
mismanagement  and  from  the  incompetency  of  the 
overseer,  whom  Talbot  had  hired ;  but  he  knew  that 
he  had  no  legal  right  to  speak,  and  he  could  only  sigh 
and  wish  for  happier  days. 

He  and  others  thought  they  saw  in  the  fact  that 
Talbot  had  not  been  appointed  tutor  for  the  girls,  a 
disposition  to  defraud  them  entirely  of  their  just  rights, 
and  he  determined  ere  long,  to  himself  apply  for  the 
tutorship  of  the  orphans. 

Talbot  now  occupied  himself  in  riding  about  the 
plantation,  and  learning  its  duties.  The  negroes  saw 
at  first  that  there  was  a  change  coming  over  things ; 
they  missed  the  cheerful  smile  of  their  former  kind 
master.  They  missed  his  gentle  words — they  missed 
many  a  holiday  and  little  present.  In  their  stead, 
there  was  the  harsh  voice  of  a  frowning  stranger ;  a 
round  of  unmitigated  toil ;  and  no  cheering  words  of 
kindness  ever  struck  their  ear.  Where  now  were 
their  Sunday  sports  and  recreations  ?  Gone !  and  in 
their  place  was  a  sullen,  ragged,  discontented  group, 
lounging  without  soul  or  spirit  in  the  sun. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  269 

An  important  era  in  the  life  of  Talbot  now  occurred. 
The  account  of  the  administration  of  the  estate  of 
Ormond  was  filed  and  homologated,  and  he  was  then 
discharged  from  the  administratorship.  Now  was  the 
trial  of  Talbot.  He  claimed  the  succession  as  the 
nearest  heir-at-law ;  the  proofs  he  brought  up  induced 
the  same  persons  who  had  gone  his  security  to  still 
continue  on  his  paper,  and  he  became  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  the  presumptive  heir. 

Talbot  was  now,  we  may  say,  the  lord  of  this 
princely  estate.  He  had  means  at  command,  but  was 
not  satisfied.  Nor  was  he  happy.  He  was  high  up 
on  the  ladder  of  wealth,  and  could  look  down  upon 
the  world,  as  far  as  regarded  gold,  but  the  compli 
ments  of  friends  from  the  city,  at  his  splendid  re 
unions,  when  the  wine  flowed,  jests  went  forth,  and 
the  sound  of  music  awoke-  the  midnight  air,  and  the 
smiles  of  beauty  dazzled,  made  no ,  cord  vibrate  in  his 
heart.  He  was  dissatisfied  and  unhappy.  There  was 
a  vacuum  in  his  breast  which  nothing  could  fill.  He 
often  saw  the  pale  face  of  Ormond  in  his  musings ; 
and  the  form  of  the  gentle  Marie,  with  her  dark,  sad 
eyes.  He  thought  of  their  unprotected  children.  He 
felt  that  he  was  a  villain,  and  that  there  must  be  a 
curse  hanging  over  him. 

Since  the  discovery  of  the  papers — and  knowing 
that  he  was  holding  the  property  unjustly — there  was 
a  constant  disquiet  in  his  bosom.  He  imagined  and 
felt  that  there  was  always  danger  of  discovery ;  and, 
although  he  would  in  calmer  moments  smile  at  his 
own  terrors,  and  fondly  solace  himself  with  the  idea 
that  the  secret  was  profoundly  locked  in  his  own 
bosom,  and  that  no  one  living  would  ever  take  an  in- 


270  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

terest  in  it  to  dispute  the  possession,  there  were  times 
when  he  would  tremble  in  every  muscle,  and  the 
sweat  would  stand  in  great  beads  on  his  brow.  Not 
that  remorse  ever  touched  his  flinty  heart;  No!  it 
was  a  constant  fear  of  detection,  which  rendered  his 
life  miserable,  and  caused  sleep  to  be  a  stranger  to  his 
pillow.  He  became  more  thoughtful  and  moody. 
He  was  often  buried  in  long  reveries.  He  was  very 
irritable;  and  never  saw  a  party  of  gentlemen  ap- 
proachi-ng  the  house  that  he  did  not  imagine  they 
came  to  tell  him  every  thing  was  known,  and  that  he 
was  lost.  "While  in  these  moods,  he  resorted  to  the 
wine  cup  for  solace.  But  as  time  passed  on,  and  Tie 
was  unmolested,  his  terrors  were  partly  banished,  and 
he  began  to  fear  less.  As  people  began  to  treat  him 
more  cordially,  he  seemed  to  forget  the  circumstance 
that  the  one  man  who  alone  could  wreck  him;  was  yet" 
on  earth. 

He  had  for  some  time  past  intended  to  send  to  Paris 
for  the  girls ;  but  for  want  of  a  proper  person,  he  had 
delayed  it.  He  would  not  send  Hiver ;  he  was  afraid 
to  trust  him.  Stamps  was  too  rough  and  uncouth ; 
and  he  doubted  if  he  sent  Stamps  if  he  would  ever 
find  Paris ;  but,  believing  that  he,  of  all  others,  was 
the  most  devoted  to  his  interests,  he  thought  that  by 
sufficient  drilling  he  might  be  able  to  make  him  answer  i 
for  an  escort.  He  had  noticed  that  Stamps  was  much 
less  talkative  in  company  than  formerly,  and  seemed 
to  try  to  adapt  himself  to  his  wishes  more.  So  Talbot 
concluded  to  send  his  friend.  He  had  in  his  conver 
sations  with  him  often  hinted  at  it,  and  Stamps  had 
expressed  himself  ready  to  go.  He  had '  gradually 
given  him  all  the  information  in  regard  to  the  estate, 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  271 

and  the  situation  of  the  orphans,  whom  he  still  pre 
tended  to  term  slaves  ;  but  he  did  not  inform  him  of 
the  discovery  of  the  papers.  No  !  he  kept  that  locked 
in  his  own  "bosom.  That  would  be  giving  Stamps  too 
great  a  hold  on  him ;  and  he  intended  to  dissolve  the 
connection  between  them  when  Stamps  had  returned 
from  Erance. 

It  was  one  evening  when  Talbot  was  riding  thrpugh 
the  field,  Stamps  was  coming  along  behind. 

"  Billy,"  he  said,  stopping  his  horse;  u ride  up. 
You  know,"  he  continued,  "that  when  you  came  up 
here,  you  agreed  to  go  by  my  instructions,  and  assist 
me?' 

11  Well,  I  am  willing  to  do  so  whenever  you  call  on 
me." 

"  Then,  Billy,  you  know  that  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  leave  home,  and  it  will  be  necessary  that  you  go  to 
Paris,  and  come  home  with  the  girls.  I  would  give  a 
great  deal  to  go  myself,  but  I  am  so  placed  that  I  am 
compelled  to  remain  to  protect  my  interests ;  for  you 
know  I  have  many  and  watchful  enemies  abroad." 

"  Just  name  your  time,  Tolly,  and  I  will  start," 
cried  Stamps,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  anticipation. 

"  Very  good,  Billy,  you  're  a  trump;  we  must  get 
you  ready  in  a  few  days." 

At  the  end  of  the  week  they  were  sitting  in  the 
gallery  waiting  for  a  boat.  He  had  duly  lectured 
and  warned  Stamps,  and  repeatedly  given  him  rules 
for  his  conduct.  u  Now,  Billy,  listen !  I  believe  with 
the  advice  I  have  given  you,  that  you  can  go  and 
acquit  yourself  very  well.  You  are  going  upon  a 
mission  of  peculiar  importance,  and  it  will  require  all 
your  care  and  prudence.  Here  is  a  letter  for  the  Lady 


272  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Superior  of  the  convent,  notice  the  address ;  and  this 
one  is  for  the  girls.  Here  is  one  for  Hiver,  who  will 
see  you  off,  and  this  you  must  present  to  my  merchant 
who  will  give  you  money  for  your  journey.  Now  in 
addition  to  what  I  have  said,  I  will  add  :  be  prudent, 
do  not  talk  too  much,  and  when  you  do  talk,  don't  talk 
about  yourself." 

"  Now,  Tolly,  you  need  not  fear  for  me ;  I  am  not 
such  a  fool  as  I  used  to  be." 

"  I  believe  you,  and  all  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  keep 
your  senses  about  you;  and  Billy,  as  you  .value  my 
friendship  and  my  aid,  treat  the  girls  as  a  gentleman 
should ;  do  not  take  the  slightest  liberty  by  thought 
or  word ;  think  of  them  as  my  relatives,  and  deliver 
them  to  me  safe  and  sound,  and  Billy,  remember  your 
oath." 

"  Hold  on,  Tolly,  enough  1  you  have  said  enough  ; 
I  will  treat  them  as  if  they  were  my  own  sisters ;  I 
would  not  break  that  oath  for  all  you  have  got." 

"Well,  well!  now  go;  remember  me,  any  how, 
and  my  friendship,  and  return  as  soon  as  you  can.  In 
that  paper  you  will  find  some  suggestions  for  your 
guidance  which  will  be  of  use." 

In  the  evening  a  steamer  came,  and  Stamps  was ! 
en  route  for  Paris. 

Talbot  was  now  alone  for  the  first  time.  "When 
night  came  he  was  afraid  to  sleep  alone  in  the  cham 
ber,  and  a  servant  was  brought  in.  He  thought  per 
haps,  that  he  had  been  stupid  in  sending  Stamps  upon 
so  delicate  a  mission  ;  and  as  he  lay  and  let  his  imag 
inations  excite  him,  he  was  almost  resolved  to  recall 
his  embassador ;  but  when  the  morning  came,  he 
thought  better  of  it.  It  was  a  very  great  sacrifice  that 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  273 

he  made,  in  allowing  any  other  than  himself  to  go 
after  the  girls ;  but  there  was  no  other  he  would  trust^ 
and  he  was  afraid  of  he  hardly  knew  what.  He  was 
not  willing  to  leave  home  for  any  length  of  time ;  he 
preferred,  if  there  should  any  thing  be  discovered,  to 
learn  it  at  once,  and  be  prepared  for  it  by  flight  or 
otherwise,  than  for  it  to  come  upon  him  suddenly  and 
paralyze  him  by  its  shock. 

To  do  the  fellow  justice,  he  really,  when  he  had 
started  Stamps  to  France,  had  no  unmanly  designs 
against  tbe  girls ;  he  merely  wanted  them  out  of  his 
way,  and  was  willing  to  settle  on  them  an  annuity,  or 
alimony  to  be  released  from  the  fear  which  he  ever 
felt.  He  looked  .upon  them  as  an  hinderance  to  his 
projects,  and  he  determined  when  they  came  home  to 
settle  some  small  sum  on  them.  He  felt  perfectly  in 
different  to  their  persons,  but  then  he  had  not  seen 
them  for  several  years. 

"When  Stamps  had  been  gone  some  two  weeks, 
Talbot  received  a  notice  from  the  judge,  convening  a 
family  meeting,  for  the  purpose  of  appointing  a  curator 
to  the  girls.  He  hesitated  when  he  received  the  proems 
verbal,  and  almost  determined  to  oppose  it ;  he  looked 
upon  it  as  an  infringement  of  his  own  rights,  an  inter 
ference  in  his  affairs ;  but  when  he  remembered  the 
advice  of  Hiver,  he  then  concluded  to  let  Herndon  be 
appointed.  He  therefore  signed  the  petition,  asking 
for  the  appointment  of  Herndon,  to  the  latter's  great 
surprise. 

Stamps  had  now  been  gone  about  three  weeks,  and 
no  change  had  occurred  in  the  state  of  affairs.  It  was 
evening ;  Talbot  had  just  rode  in  the  yard  from  the 
sugar-house.  Pierre  had  been  sent  to  town  for  a  bar- 

12* 


274  THE    CEEOLE    OKPHANS. 

rel  of  whisky  for  the  negroes,  and  was  very  drunk ; 
lie  had  broached  the  barrel  as  he  came  along,  and 
drank  very  freely  of  the  liquor.  He  was  cursing  and 
grumbling  in  an  outrageous  manner. 

Talbot  was  provoked,  and  ordered  him  to  be  silent. 
This  incensed  Pierre  the  more,  and  Talbot  struck  him 
with  his  riding- whip,  as  he  again  commanded  him  to 
cease. 

"You  ain't  nothing  but  a  upstart,  no  how;  you 
ain't  no  gentleman  any  way,  and  dere  ain't  a  nigger 
on  dis  plantation  but  tink  so,  and  wish  you  was  at  de 
debil,  for  you  ain't  no  right  here  no  how." 

Foaming  with  rage,  Talbot  rushed  at  him  and  struck 
him  over  the  head  and  face  with  his  whip  again. 
This  had  no  more  effect  than  if  he  had  beaten  one  of 
the  live  oak-trees  in  the  yard,  and  Pierre  redoubled 
his  abuse.  Talbot  was  frantic,  and  literally  danced 
over  the  yard  in  his  frenzy.  The  overseer  was  com 
ing  through  the  Quarter  at  the  moment ;  and,  while 
he  was  looking  around  in  speechless  rage,  his  eye  fell 
upon  the  overseer. 

"  Here,  here,  come  here !  come  over  this  way  a  mo 
ment,  Mr.  Grambo4"  he  shouted,  hoarsely,  "  and  bring 
your  whip  along." 

The  overseer  hitched  his  horse  to  the  fence  and 
came  quickly  into  the  yard. 

"What's  the  to-do,  Mr.  Talbot?"  he  asked. 

"  Take  that  fellow !  strip  him,  and  give  him  two 
hundred ;  the  infernal  old  reprobate." 

"Here,  sir?"  asked  the  overseer. 

"Yes,  sir,  right  here!  put  him  down!"  and  here  'he 
seized  Pierre  by  the  collar  and  pulled  him  forcibly 
down,  despite  his  struggles.  He  was  soon  stripped. 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  275 

Crack !  went  the  lash,  with  a  shriek  and  a  curse  from 
Pierre;  the  whip  swung  through  the  air,  and  the 
blood  soon  begun  to  die  the  grass.  Pierre  was  silent ; 
the  overseer  tired  not,  and  every  time  the  whip  de 
scended,  it  peeled  the  flesh  from  his  back. 

The  overseer  looked  at  Talbot,  who  shook  his  head, 
"Keep  on  sir,  till  I  order  you  to  stop."  Again  the 
whip  came  down,  and  again  the  flesh  quivered  and 
shrunk ;  but  the  negro  with  fixed  eye  and  closed  teeth 
groaned  not ;  he  was  perfectly  sobered,  but  still  he 
complained  not.  At  length  Talbot  exclaimed, 

" There,  that  will  do,  you  can  let  him  up  now,  sir;" 
he  added,  as  the  bleeding  negro  arose :  "  that  will  teach 
you  a  lesson,  and  the  next  time  you  are  impertinent 
I  will  put  you  down  and  beat  you  with  a  red  hot  hand 
saw." 

"  Mr.  Talbot,"  answered  Pierre,  as  he  gathered  his 
garments  around  him,  "  my  old  massa  dat  ain't  hardly 
cold  yet,  never  hit  me  a  lick  in  his  life,  nor  his  father 
before  him ;  I  made  you  what  you  is,  and  now  I  will 
unmake  you." 

This  was  said  gravely,  and  even  with  dignity ;  but 
there  was  a  fiendish  glare  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

Talbot  cursed  him,  and  turning  off,  asked  the  over 
seer  in  to  take  a  drink  of  brandy.  He  treated  the 
threat  of  Pierre  lightly,  but  had  he  known  the  mali 
cious,  treacherous,  and  revengeful  nature  of  a  Zambo 
negro,  he  would  have  trembled  in  his  shoes. 

When  the  next  sun  shone  in  the  east,  Pierre  was 
sought  for  but  could  not  be  found ;  he  had  run  away. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

"Her  sorrow  made  her  beautiful ;  a  pity  'tis  that  all  could  not  become  it  so.M 

IT  was  an  evening  of  surpassing  beauty.  In  a  cell  in 
the  Convent  of  Mercy,  at  a  window  which  over 
looked  the  Seine,  and  nearer  still,  a  parterre,  which  was 
filled  with  blooming  exotics ;  sat  a  lovely  girl  of  about 
eighteen.  She  was  gazing  intently  toward  the  river ; 
but  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping.  She  heard  not 
the  noise  of  the  million,  nor  saw  the  moving  panorama 
of  life  spread  out  before  her.  No,  those  dark,  sad 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears.  She  was  a  lovely  being ; 
her  face  was  a  true  oval,  and  her  features  faultless. 
One  almost  believed,  as  he  gazed  into  those  expressive 
and  melancholy  eyes,  that  the  Virgin  lived  again.  Her 
hair,  was  dark  and  glossy,  and  arranged  in  smooth  and 
simple  bands  around  her  classic  head,  and  suited  well 
her  •complexion,  which  was  a  pure  olive.  She  was  an 
almost  matchless  being,  full  of  grace  and  beauty,  and 
one  to  be  cherished  and  loved. 

There  was  another  person  in  the  room.  She  was 
also  beautiful,  but  her  beauty  was  of  a  different  style. 
She  was  fairer  than  the  other,  but  the  same  features 
which  marked  her  companion,  distinguished  her.  In 
deed,  one  could  not  but  know  that  the  ties  of  sister 
hood  existed  between  them.  Is  it  necessary  to  call  the 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  277 

names  of  Zoe  and  Estelle.  Does  not  the  dark,  rich 
tint  of  the  skin,  and  the  large,  mild  eye,  the  sweet, 
calm  smile  lingering  around  the  mouth,  and  the  happy 
expression  of  countenance,  denote  the  parentage.  Yes. 
they  are  indeed  our  young  friends,  whom  we  left 
bright  and  sunny  little  fairies,  now  grown  up  into  two 
noble  and  beautiful  beings. 

It  was  Zoe  who  sat  at  the  window ;  it  was  she  whose 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  moving  mass  below ;  but 
her  soul  drank  in  nothing  present ;  she  was  abstracted ; 
her  thoughts  were  far  away,  in  the  land  of  her  nativity, 
in  her  own  dear  Louisiana,  where  laid  the  bones  of 
her  parents. 

Estelle  was  seated  at  a  low  table  a  few  steps  off  with 
an  open  letter  spread  out  before  her ;  the  crystal  drops 
falling  thick  on  the  page.  It  was  the  letter  of  Mr. 
Herndon  announcing  the  death  of  their  father. 

In  this  position  each  remained  some  minutes,  until 
at  length  she  arose,  and  walked  toward  the  window. 
She  dropped  down  on  a  seat  near  her  sister  ;  and  throw 
ing  her  arms  around  her,  exclaimed  as  the  tears  stream 
ed  down  her  face.  "  Oh,  sister,  God  has  forsaken  us. 
Are  we  not  wretched.  Father,  mother,  both.  It  seems 
but  a  month  since  the  letter  came  with  that  black  sor 
rowful  news.  Our  mother  is  gone  forever  ;  her  sweet 
quiet  smile  will  welcome  us  no  more ;  nor  will  her 
pure  bosom  pillow  our  brows  again.  Now  comes  this 
horrible  news,  the  last  and  most  tremendous  misery. 
Oh.  is  it  not  terrible.  I  shall  go  mad ;"  and  here  her 
emotions  became  so  powerful  that  she  was  unable  to 
say  more. 

Zoe  tried  to  comfort  her ;  but  her  own  heart  was 
breaking. 


278  THE    CKEOLE    OBPHANS. 

Estelle  raised  her  head. 

"Oh,  sister,  I  know  what  you  would  say,  but  com 
fort  can  not  be  given.  We  are  alone,  we  are  unpro 
tected.  Oh,  who  will  be  our  friends.  Oh,  father, 
mother,"  she  said,  falling  on  her  knees,  "if  your  pure 
spirits  are  permitted  to  descend  and  watch  over  your 
poor  orphans,  oh,  stoop  your  golden  wings  from  heav 
en,  come  to  us  in  spirit,  and  bear  our  prayers  to  our 
Holy  Mother.  Oh,  parents  in  bliss,  by  the  memory 
of  those  innocent  and  happy  hours,  by  your  love  on 
earth,  forget  us  not,  be  with  us,  and  cheer  us  in  this 
our  dark  hour  of  affliction." 

"  Come,  dear  Estelle,"  interrupted  Zoe,  who  was  fear 
ful  that  such  an  excess  of  emotion  would  unsettle  her 
reason.  "  Cheer  up,  do  not  give  way  to  these  terrible 
feelings — do  for  my  sake,  try  and  compose  yourself." 

"  Ah,  sister,"  she  answered,  wildly,  "for  your  sake; 
and  you  are  all  that  is  left  now  to  the  heart-broken 
Estelle.  But  what  have  you  or  I  to  live  for  now  ?  we 
are  friendless  orphans. 

"  Sister,  you  are  wrong  ;  we  have  a  friend,  and  oh, 
such  a  friend.  He  is  great  and  powerful ;  he  can  bid 
the  angry  sea  be  still,  and  its  waves  sink  into  peace. 
He,  our  great  Father,  the  orphan's  friend.  He  will 
protect  us.  Estelle,  sister,"  she  continued,  as  she  raised 
her  streaming  eyes  to  Heaven,  while  a  holy  light 
seemed  to  irradiate  her  countenance,  "when  we  were 
little  children,  and  about  leaving  home,  our  mother 
said :  Zoe,  you  are  the  elder,  love  and  cherish  your 
sister,  she  is  young,  teach  her  to  love  God,  as  I  have 
taught  you,  and  never  close  your  eyes  without  "invok 
ing  the  blessing  of  God.  Sister,  I  have  taught — I 
have  loved  you.  I  love  you,  and  our  mother  looks  down 


THE    CKjSOLE    OBPHANS.  279 

from  Heaven,  and  smiles  with  joy.  Sister  let  us  ask 
that  friend  to  bless,  and  to  succor  us  in  our  sorrow." 

Here  she  took  Estelle  by  the  hand,  and  they  both 
knelt  down.  There,  amid  the  din  arid  noise  of  the 
great  city,  the  Almighty  heard  the  orphan's  cry  Like 
the  vibration  of  the  wings  of  an  angel,  tremulous  like 
the  rays  which  fall  from  the  sacred  lights  of  heaven, 
did  this  pure  and  holy  offering,  ascend  to  God.  Earn 
estly  and  with  faith,  did  she  send  forth  her  humble 
supplication.  And  it  was  heard  in  Heaven. 

They  arose.  As  Zoe  had  supposed,  her  sister  was 
calm,  it  was  the  sacred  tranquillity  of  pure  faith,  the 
trust  in  a  Great  "Watcher  over  all,  who  notes  every 
thing  ;  whose  ears  are  ever  open  to  the  call  of  the  af 
flicted  ;  and  without  whose  knowledge  not  even  the 
breath  which  rustles  the  summer  leaves  arises.  That 
Being  who  knows  the  fallacies  of  the  human  heart,  and 
who  is  never  deaf  to  the  cry  of  the  widow,  and  the 
orphan.  The  injured  and  the  calumniated,  the  bruised 
and  heart-stricken  may  come  to  Him,  and  find  a  sure 
friend,  one  who  never  tires,  nor  turns  away  when  the 
soul  is  wrung  with  agony,  but  whose  hour  of  retribu 
tion  comes ;  although  it  may  to  us  seem  retarded.  This 
was  the  Friend  of  Zoe  and  Estelle. 

Just  as  Estelle  was  about  to  speak  again,  a  gentle 
tap  was  heard  at  the  door ;  it  opened,  and  a  sister  en 
tered.  She  spoke  to  them  kindly,  and  brought  a  mes 
sage  from  the  Superior,  inviting  them  to  come  down 
and  accompany  her  into  the  convent  gardens.  They 
kindly  thanked  her,  and  replied  that  they  would  join 
her  as  soon  as  they  had  arranged  their  dresses. 

The  good  Superior  and  ladies  did  every  thing  in 
their  power  to  moderate  the  grief  of  Zoe  and 'Estelle. 


280  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

The  rules  of  the  convent  were  broken,  as  the  reader 
will  perceive,  even  by  their  having  a  separate  room. 
Indeed  they  were  uneasy  on  account  of  Estelle,  who 
was  nearly  frantic  with  grief,  and  any  thing  which 
could  divert  her  own  and  her  sister's  minds  from  their 
sorrow,  was  eagerly  tried.  The  girls  were  much  be 
loved  in  the  convent ;  both  on  account  of  their  long 
residence,  and  for  their  inherent  good  qualities. 

It  will  be  perceived  that  the  letter  from  Mr.  Herndon 
had  been  received.  This  was  a  week  previously,  and 
still  the  orphans  wept. 

Talbot's  letter  had  also  reached  them — it  only  added 
to  their  grief. 

"  Sister,"  said  Estelle,  while  she  was  combing  out 
Zoe's  wealth  of  raven  hair;  "is  this  person  who  is 
named  Talbot,  and  calls  himself  our  relative,  the 
same  man  who  used  to  be  "with  us  when  we  were 
young,  and  who  taught  us  to  draw  and  paint?" 

"  Yes ;  he  is  the  same,  I  think." 

"  Well,  what  has  he  to  do  with  us  ?  Is  he  our 
relative?" 

"  He  was  introduced  as  such  by  our  father,  sister; 
but  mother  used  to  have  an  aversion  to  him,  I  think. 
At  least,  from  all  that  I  can  remember  now,  she  never 
liked  him." 

They  descended  to  the  Superior. 

Some  days  after  this,  the  girls  were  sitting  in  their 
room.  Several  weeks  had  passed  off  since  the  last 
scene,  and  the  first  violent  emotions  of  grief  were  sub- 
due.d  ;  but,  in  it  its  place,  a  deep,  pensive  cast  of  silent 
sorrow  remained,  which  dimmed  the  brightness  of  their 
eyes  and  paled  their  cheeks ;  but  made  them  more  sweet 
and  interesting,  if  possible,  than  ever.  They  were 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  281 

sitting  together,  and  engaged  in  some  light  embroidery ; 
their  thoughts  and  their  conversations  were  of  their 
dear  home  beyond  the  sea.  A  sister  entered. — ' '  Young 
ladies,"  she  said,  "  the  Superior  sends  for  you  in  the 
library." 

They  arose,  and  followed  her  into  the  room  where 
the  mother  was  seated.  She  received  them  kindly. 
"My  children,"  she  said,  when  she  had  made  them 
seat  themselves  before  her;  "the  Holy  Mother  has 
heard  your  prayers,  and  sends  you  comfort." 

"  What  mean  you,  mother?"  asked  Zoe,  anxiously. 

"  My  daughter,  you  are  to  leave  the  -convent,  and 
return  to  your  home  in  America." 

"  Alas !.  madam,  we  have  no  home,  said  Estelle, 
sorrowfully. 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  child,"  said  the  lady, 
kindly.  "  You  have  kind  friends  and  true  ;  and  they 
long  to  welcome  you  to  their  arms." 

"  We  know  them  not,"  replied  she. 

"  Be  thankful,  my  children,  that  God  has  raised  up 
friends  for  you;  for,  when  you  leave  the  peaceful 
shadow  of  these  holy  walls,  your  path  will  be  beset 
with  thorns,  and  trials,  and  temptations." 

"  I  would  rather  live  in  these  walls  than  mingle  in 
a  world  which  can  have  no  charms  for  me.  The 
bright  spots  in  my  life  would  be  but  few.  Here  I 
could  at  least  find  peace;" 

"There  are  duties  in  life,"  said  the  Superior,  "  which 
we  all  have  to  perform.  Go  out  and  fill  your  ap 
pointed  mission  ;  if  misfortune  ever  shadows  you  with 
its  dark  wing,  here  you  will  ever  find  a  home." 

"Oh,  mother!"  exclaimed  the  impulsive  Estelle, 
"  you  are  kind  and  good,  and  how  can  we  leave  you?" 


282  THE    CEEOLE    O  HP  HANS. 

"  The  separation  will  cause  me  pain,  but  we  must 
bow  submissively  to  our  duty.  Come,  we  will  go ; 
there  is  a  gentleman  waiting  your  appearance  in  the 
parlor." 

"  Oh,  mother !"  she  exclaimed,  much  surprised. 

"Yes,  my  children,  that  is  the  cause  of  my  sending 
for  you.  He  is  sent  by  a  kinsman  to  protect  you  over 
the  sea — to  take  you  home." 

"  A  kinsman,  mother  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  relative  of  your  father's  ?" 

"  Oh,  then  we  will  go !"  exclaimed  Estelle,  rising ; 
"if  he  is  like  my  noble  father  he  is  good  and  honor 
able — he  is  pure.  Come,"  she  repeated. 

"Nay,  my  child,"  exclaimed  the  Superior,  half- 
smiling  at  her  earnest  manner;  "there  is  time,  me- 
thinks.  You  are  now  eager  to  leave  our  protection." 

"Not  so,  mother,"  replied  she,  going  to  her  side, 
and  taking  her  hand,  which  she  pressed  to  her  lips. 
"Forgive  my  haste,  but  you  know  that  your  poor 
Estelle  is  almost  crazy.  You  are  a  kind  mother  to  us, 
and  go  where  I  will,  there  is  a  place  in  my  poor  heart 
devoted  to  respect  and  affection  for  you." 

"Heartily  do  I  forgive  you,  my  poor  child;  you 
follow  only  the  dictates  of  nature.  God  be  with  you ! 
Come,  we  will  go."  And  so  saying,  she  extended  her 
hand  to  each,  and  walked  toward  the  parlor.  Quickly 
did  their  bosoms  heave  and  their  pulses  beat,  as  they 
stood  before  the  door.  It  opened.  Sitting  by  a  table, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  painting  hung  in  the  wall, 
was  Mr.  Stamps.  He  was  vastly  improved  by  travel, 
and  dressed  in  the  latest  style.  A  thick  mustache 
garnished  his  lip — the  growth  of  weeks,  and  carefully 
nursed  by  him  for  the  present  occasion.  Poor  Stamps, 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  283 

he  had  been  greatly  annoyed.  Although  he  had  been 
in  Paris  a  week,  he  had  scarcely  heard  any  word  save 
the  native  language.  It  dinned  in  his  ears,  and  con 
fused  his  brain  ;  and,  in  trying  to  imitate,  he  had 
almost  forgotten  his  own  tongue.  He  had  found  the 
convent  on  the  second  day,  and  had  since  been  pre 
paring  for  the  visit.  He  said  to  himself,  "How  will  I 
ever  know  how  to  tell  them  what  I  want,  when  I  get 
there  ?  I  can't  speak  a  word  of  French.  Why  was  it 
that  every  body  was  not  made  to  speak  English?" 

A  lucky  thought  struck  him  ;  so,  to  a  book-store 
he  went,  and  there  after  an  hour's  pantomime  in  broken 
English,  an  American  stepped  up  and  relieved  his  em 
barrassment.  He  wanted  a  book  of  English  and  French 
conversations.  This  obtained,  he  set  off  to  his  hotel 
to  study  it.  It  was  hard  work  ;  for  Stamps  had  never 
been  used  to  a  student's  life.  He  found  a  few  sen 
tences  which  he  thought  he  could  make  use  of. 

The  time  now  came  for  him  to  use  them  ;  his  eyes 
were  on  them  ;  for  they  were  written  out  and  pasted 
in  his  hat.  The  Superior  entered.  He  looked  at  her. 
The  letters  had  been  sent  to  her  by  a  sister.  His  eyes 
were  bent  into  his  hat,  for  his  French  had  oozed  out. 
Suddenly  he  bounced  up,  as  if  on  springs. 

"  Comment  vou-s  portez-vous,  madamel"  .he  said,  gasp 
ingly. 

The  lady  bowed,  coldly,  and  returned  his  salutation. 

This  encouraged  hint,  and  he  proceeded. 

"Madame  Superieur,  vous  avez  mon  lettre  ?" 


"  What  shall  I  say  next?"  said  the  poor  fellow,  who 
now  began  to  perspire. 

11  Ah,  madame,  je  ne  comprend  votre  langage  de  Fran- 


284  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

cais.     M.  Talbot  desire  Mesdemoiselles  Ormond  retourner 
d  Louisiane.     II  very  much  mis^re." 

The  lady  smiled  at  the  unique  compound,  and  turn 
ing  to  her  companion,  said, 

"  Vest  un  zero,  un  vrai  zero." 

Then  to  Stamps  she  exclaimed,  "  Monsieur,  are  you 
an  American?" 

"  Yes,  madam,"  replied  he,  promptly. 

"  You  can  speak  English,  then?" 

"Like  a hem!     Oh!  yes,  madam." 

"  Then  you  are  the  person  who  is  sent  to  take 
charge  of  these  young  ladies  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam.  Their  relative  sent  me ;  he  wants 
to  see  his  cousins  mighty  bad." 

Stamps  was  taken  aback  and  confused.  He"  had 
expected,  when  he  came  to  Paris,  to  see  two  ordinary 
Quadroon  girls,  who  were  to  be  placed  far  below  his 
level,  and  one  at  least  to  be  subject  to  his  caprices. 
In  their  stead,  he  beheld  before  him  two  beings  more 
ravishingly  beautiful  than  he  had  ever  dreamed,  and 
before  whom  he  felt  humiliated.  Whe"ri  he  had  in 
some  measure  recovered  from  his  embarrassment,  and 
the  Lady  Superior  was  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with 
Zoe,  he  asked, 

"Madame,.!  presume  the  letters  I  brought  are  a 
sufficient  guaranty  of  my  authority,  and  will  warrant 
you  in  placing  the — the  young  ladies  under  my 
care?" 

After  some  thought,  the  lady  replied,  "  There  will- 
be  no  difficulty,  sir ;  the  young  ladies  will  accompany 
you." 

"  That 's  it,  madam.  I  knew  you  would  say  it  was 
all  right." 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  285 

"  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  inform  me,  sir," 
asked  she,  "who  is  appointed  guardian  to  the  young 
ladies?" 

"  Oh,  madam!"  he  answered,  hesitating;  uoh!  Mr. 
Herndon  and  Mr.  Talbot." 

"  And  this  Mr.  Talbot  is  a  relative?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  they  know  that ;  a  cousin  of  their 
father's." 

Estelle  would  have  asked  many  questions,  but  the 
Superior  interrupted  her.  "You  will  have  time 
enough  to  ask:  all  the  questions  you  can  think  of  dur 
ing  the  voyage.  We  must  now  separate.  When  will 
you  be  ready  to  set  out,  sir  ?" 

"  That  I  leave  to  you,  madam." 

"  I  am  not  your  guide,  sir." 

"  Then,  madam,  in  a  week  from  to-day  I  will  call 
again." 

"  Yery  good,  sir." 

He  bowed  an  adieu. 

It  was  several  days  before  he  could  hear,  of  a  vessel 
leaving  Havre  for  New  Orleans,  but  at  length  he  called 
at  the  convent,  to  say  that  on  the  next  day  he  should 
leave.  The  Superior  promised  that  the  young  ladies 
would  be  ready. 

The  morning  was  cool,  and  day  had  scarcely  broken, 
as  Zoe  and  Estelle  issued  from  the  portal  in  tears. 
They  felt  as  if  they  were  leaving  a  home.  Since  they 
entered  it,  they  had  never  been  from  under  the  keep 
ing  of  the  good  sisters.  They  hung  in  tears  on  the 
neck  of  the  good  Superior,  stepped  into  the  carriage 
in  waiting,  and  were  separated  forever.  To  a  dili 
gence  station  they  were  driven,  and  when  vehicles 
had  been  .changed,  were  whirled  away  on  the  road  to 


286  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

Havre.  Zoe  turned  her  head,  and  looked  behind. 
The  city  was  fast  disappearing ;  the  steeple  of  Notre 
Dame  and  the  cupola  of  the  Pantheon  were  alone  visi 
ble  over  the  tops  of  the  houses. 

Havre  was  reached.  Again  they  are  rocked  upon 
the  billows  of  the  Atlantic,  and,  dove-like,  are  return 
ing  to  their  nest.  But,  oh !  the  ruthless  hand  of  the 
hunter  has  cut  asunder  the  thread  of  life  of  the  parent- 
bird.  They  will  reach  the  nest,  and  chirp  in  sorrow, 
for  it  is  desolate. 


CHAPTER  XXT. 

*'  Man  spurns  the  worm,  but  pauses  ere  he  wake 
The'slumbering  venom  of  the  folded  snake. 
The  first  may  turn,  but  not  avenge  the  blow; 
The  last  expires,  but  leaves  no  living  foe ; 
Fast  to  the  doom'd  offender's  form  it  clings, 
And  he  may  crush,  not  conquer — still  it  stings!" 

THE  COBSAIR. 

TTTE  have  seen  the  inconsiderate  brutality  of  Talbot, 
in  punishing  old  Pierre  so  severely.  He  tried  to 
banish  from  his  breast  a  certain  uneasy  feeling.  He 
knew  that  Pierre  had  in  his  keeping  his  honor,  life, 
all.  He  had  committed  himself  to  the  negro,  and  he 
well  knew  that  there  was  no  confidence  to  be  placed 
in  him;  but  he  thought  that  self-interest  would 
keep  him  silent.  He  knew  moreover  that  the  negro's 
statement  could  not  convict  him ;  but  he  felt  that  it 
might  lead  to  an  unpleasant  investigation,  which  would 
eventually  result  in  a  discovery.  He  spent  an  uneasy 
night,  but  came  to  the  conclusion  to  seek  Pierre  in 
the  morning,  and  make  it  all  up. 

The  overseer  had  been  struck  with  the  threat  made 
by  Pierre,  and  it  sunk  deep  into  his  mind.  He  felt 
that  there  was  something  behind;  but  although  he 
thought  much,  yet,  as  a  prudent  man,  he  kept  his 
mouth  closed. 

In  the  morning  Talbot  walked  into  the  quarter, 
with  the  intention  of  seeking  Pierre.  No  one  had 


288  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

seen  him.  Inquiry  was  set  on  foot,  and  it  was  found 
that  Pierre  had  not  even  slept  in  his  house  during  the 
night ;  he  had  run  away. 

Talbot  was  horror-struck ;  he  caused  the  overseer 
to  take  a  party  of  negroes,  to  hunt  the  swamp  thor 
oughly  ;  he  himself  also  went  a  different  route ;  he 
was  now  really  alarmed,  and  rode  hither  and  thither 
in  a  state  of  the  greatest  agitation.  Dinner-time  came, 
he  rode  up ;  the  overseer  was  standing  in  the  yard, 
tired  and  covered  with  mud. 

"  Ha,ve  you  found  the  old  scoundrel?"  he  asked,  in 
a  tone  of  anxiety,  which  he  tried  to  hide. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Grambo ;  "  I  've  been  all  over 
the  swamp,  and  I  can't  see  hide  or  hair  of  him ! 
Maybe  he  's  gone  and  drowned  himself." 

"A  very  good  resolution,  if  he  has." 

When  Pierre  had  made  the  threat  to  Talbot,  he 
walked  off  slowly  and  painfully.  His  soul  was  filled 
with  a  deadly  rage :  he  had  been  beaten  cruelly  and 
inhumanly  by  a  man  for  whom  he  felt  a  deep  con 
tempt — by  a  man  whom  he  had  the  sagacity  to  know 
he  had  elevated  to  his  present  position  by  concealing 
papers  of  value.  He  had  hoped  to  have  been  benefited 
by  the  change  of  owners  ;  but  he  found  harder  labor, 
worse  fare,  and  worse  treatment,  He  had  often  re 
gretted  that  the  part  he  had  taken  in  it  had  raised 
Talbot  to  the  situation  he  occupied ;  and  the  present 
occasion  was  the  mere  igniting  of  the  fuse  to  a  mine, 
the  explosive  materials  of  which  were  already  pre 
pared.  A  long  series  of  injuries  and  impositions  had 
to  be  avenged.  Some  negroes  would  have  sought  a 
personal  injury,  for  all  are  capable  of  it.  Some  would 
have  fired  the  sugar-house ;  and  others  concocted 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.     .  289 

other  injury.  But  Pierre,  as  we  have  seen,  was  no 
common  negro  :  he  was  possessed  of  deep  and  subtle 
cunning. 

The  reader  is  aware  that  he  was  what  is  termed  a 
"Zambo."  The  Zambos  are  noted  for  a  deep  and 
ferocious  subtilty ;  very  deceitful ;  inflicting  injuries 
long  after  the  cause  has  been  forgotten,  and  when  least 
expected.  They  are  the  descendants  of  the  Mulatto 
and  Zamlo  negro,  and  are  known  by  their  peculiarly 
black  skins.  Pierre  was  a  real  Zambo.  He  sought 
his  cabin,  lay  down,  and  remained  until  late  in  the 
evening.  He  lay  plotting  his  revenge. 

It  was  long  since  dark.  Suddenly  he  started  up, 
and  limped  sorely  out.  All  was  still.  Sleep  reigned 
over  all.  He  stood  before  his .  door,  and  looked  with 
a  gloomy  and  scowling  brow  toward  the  dwelling.  A 
solitary  light  shone  from  a  window.  It  was  Talbot's 
room.  Deep  and  devilish  thoughts  were  in  the  Zam- 
bo's  bosom.  As  he  turned  to  go,  a  small  dog,  which 
generally  followed,  attempted  to  accompany  him  now. 
He  tried  to  force  it  back,  and  still  it  persisted.  With 
out  hesitating  a  moment,  he  reached  his  hand  inside 
the  door,  near  which  stood  his  ax.  He  raised  it,  and 
inflicted  a  terrible  wound  on  the  poor  animal,  which 
crawled  under  the  house,  and  died. 

Without  a  moment's  regret  at  the  cruel  deed,  he 
strode  forward  as  fast  as  the  state  of  his  lacerated 
body  would  allow.  He  jumped  the  fence,  so  as  to 
hide  his  footsteps,  and  took  his  way  through  the  cane. 
He  went  straight  to  Mr.  Herndon's  plantation. 

Mr.  Herndon  had  retired  to  bed,  and  was  awakened 
by  a  tapping  at  his  window.  He  arose  hastily,  and 

went  to  the  casement. 

13 


290  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  Who  is  that  ?"  lie  asked,  looking  down. 

"  Me,  sir— Pierre." 

" Pierre!  what  are  you  doing  here,  sir?  Is  any 
thing  wrong  ?" 

"  It 's  all  wrong,  Mr.  Herndon.  Let  me  come  in, 
sir,  and  I  '11  tell  you  something  you  would  like  to 
know." 

Herndon  thought  a  moment,  for  he  knew  how 
treacherous  the  negro  was ;  but  at  last  said,  "Go  to 
the  side-door,  sir." 

Pierre  disappeared,  and  Herndon  took  up  his  walk 
ing-cane  as  he  went  to  the  door. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Herndon,"  Pierre  said,  "  put  me  whar 
the  other  niggers  won't  hear  me,  and  I  will  talk." 

"  Come  in  here,  then,"  said  Herndon,  struck  by  the 
negro's  grave  manner,  as  he  led  the  way  to  his  cham 
ber,  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Now,  what  is  it,  sir  ?" 

"Well,  Mr.  Herndon,  sir,  ever  since  my  master 
died,  I  have  tried  to  please  that  man ;  but  now,  sir, 
I  won't  stand  it  no  longer." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  Do  you  come  here  with 
your  complaints  at  this  time  of  night,  and  expect  me 
to  interfere  between  your  new  master  and  you  ?" 

"  He  ain't  none  of  my  master.  Mr.  Herndon,  my 
back  is  cut  deep,  and  the  flesh  is  a-hangin'  in  rags 
from  it.  That  man,  that  calls  me  his  nigger,  had  it 
done.  Now,  sir,  I  was  a  black  rascal  to  do  what  I  has 
done,  and  maybe,  if  I  hadent  a  done  it,  he  would  n't 
a  bin  thar." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  want,  you  black  old 
rascal  ?  You  are  drunk,  and  have  been  whipped  for 
some  villainy,  I  suppose." 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  291 

sir ;  I  was  put  down  this  evening,  and  give 
three  hundred  licks  because  I  got  drunk." 

"  Just  as  I  supposed." 

"  No,  sir ;  that  ain't  all.  I  was  drunk,  and  I  was 
beat  worse  than  a  dog ;  and  now  I  come  to  tell  you 
that  I  stole  the  paper." 

"  What  paper  ?"  interrupted  Herndon,  the  truth 
now  suddenly  bursting  on  him ;  and  he  turned  pale 
with  emotion. 

"  My  master  give  me  a  paper  when  he  was  so  sick, 
and  says  he,  '  Pierre,  when  I  am  gone,  take  this  paper 
from  the  cabinet,  an'  give  it  to  Mr.  Herndon.'  Well, 
sir,  Talbot  had  give  me  money  often,  and  I  spent  it 
in  whisky ;  and  he  promised  me  more,  and  he  made 
me  steal  all  the  papers  I  could  find,  and  keep  them  for 
him.  I  gin  him  this  ar  one,  and  he  is  bin  a  lordin' 
it  over  me  ever  sence." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before,  sir?" 

"  'Case  I  was  afeard,  and  I  thought  I  would  n't  have 
no  more  work  to  do  when  he  come  thar ;  but  I  has 
had  harder  work,  and  more  starvin'  than  I  ever  got  in 
my  life  ;  an'  I  only  wish  I  had  my  old  master  back 
agin." 

For  several  minutes  Herndon  sat  without  speaking. 
A  thousand  conflicting  thoughts  passed  through  his 
mind.  "Have  I  got  the  clew  to  this  mystery,"  he 
thought,  "or  is  Pierre  deceiving  me?"  He  looked 
the  black  long  and  steadily  in  the  face  without  speak 
ing,  and  then  cross-examined  him  again  and  again. 
At  last  he  spoke. 

"  You  have  run  away,  Pierre?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  ain't  a  gwine  back  no  more  there." 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  return." 


292  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  That  man  will  kill  me,  sir." 

"  He  will  not,  Pierre,"  he  said,  looking  at  him  fix 
edly.  "If  you  are  deceiving  me,  I  will  have  you 
whipped ;  but  if  it  is  true,  and  I  can  succeed  in  prov 
ing  it,  I  will  give  you  your  freedom  !  Do  you  hear?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answered.  v  "  I  tell  you,  sir,  'cause  I 
hates  the  upstart,  as  all  the  rest  of  'em  does ;  and  you 
can  jest  kill  me  if  I  liee." 

"  "Well,  Pierre,  you  must  go  back,  and  act  as  if  you 
had  just  been  out  in  the  cane.  Go  to  Talbot,  beg  off, 
and  promise  not  to  do  so  again.  Lay  the  fault  on  the 
liquor — you  understand  me? — and  leave  the  rest  to 
me.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  can  go  back,  and  just  do  that  way." 

"Pierre,  keep  your  mouth  shut.  Do  you  hear? 
Act  as  if  you  had  forgotten  it  all." 

"  Mr.  Herndon,  I  knows  what  you  mean  well,  and 
you  need  n't  be  'feard  of  me.  You  must  let  me  stay 
'bout  here ;  I'll  go  up  in  the  stable  loft,  and  lay  there 
tell  I  git  easy.  •  I  got  some  vittils  here  in  my  bundle. 
I'll  go  back,  sir." 

"  That 's  it,  Pierre ;  but  don't  let  any  of  the  negroes 
see  you  here." 

"No,  sir;  I  won't." 

The  reflections  to  which  this  conversation  gave  rise 
in  the  breast  of  Herndon  were  various ;  but  he  was 
convinced  of  Pierre's  sincerity,  for  he  had  narrowly 
watched  him  while  speaking,  and  saw  a  dogged  reso 
lution  of  revenge  alone  predominant.  He  felt  that  he 
had  a  clew,  slight  as  it  was,  to  the  supposed  neglect  of 
Ormond.  He  imagined  that  he  had  taken  a  thread 
which  would  lead  to  the  ejection  of  Talbot.  The 
course  to  be  pursued  he  left  to  fate ;  but  he  determined 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  293 

to  go  to  Martinique,  to  learn,  if  possible,  if  OrmontL 
had  married  Marie,  and  if  the  children  were  legiti 
mated.  He  scarcely  had  a  hope  of  this  ;  but  the  idea 
was  vivid  and  sudden,  and  he  formed  a  resolution  to 
penetrate  to  the  bottom. 

Pierre  remained  in  the  straw  in  Mr.  Herndon's  stable, 
to  "  make  de  search  arter  him  more  interesting'  as  he 
said,  and  on  the  evening  of.  the  second  day,  about 
sundown,  descended  from  his  roost.  The  news  quickly 
spread  at  Talbot's,  the  next  morning,  that  "  Pierre 
done  come  in."  Great  was  the  delight  of  Talbot ;  for 
he  was  much  alarmed,  and  his  constant  anxiety  of 
mind  had  thrown  him  into  a  fever.  He  felt  that  all 
the  beautiful  schemes  he  had  built  up  were  being 
undermined,  and  that  all  was  a  ruin ;  all  was  lost. 
He  felt  like  flying,  and  leaving  the  country,  after 
securing  a  portion  of  the  property.  He  even  armed 
himself,  to  be  prepared  in  case  of  emergency. 

He  was  completely  deceived  by  Pierre,  who  ex 
pressed  great  sorrow  for  his  late  conduct,  and  prom 
ised  to  get  drunk  no  more.  This  at  once  satisfied 
Talbot,  and  he  began  to  get  easier  and  more  content ; 
but  he  formed  a  resolution  to  put  it  out  of  the  Zambo's 
power  ever  to  injure  him. 

He  now  began  daily  to  look  for  the  return  of  Stamps 
with  his  charge.  His  face  would  flush,  and  a  tremor, 
a  strange  feeling  ,of  excitement,  would  run  through  his 
frame,  as  he  thought  of  having  the  girls  in  his  power. 
He  arranged  a  chamber  for  their  accommodation,  and 
had  concealed  springs  placed  in  the  sashes  to  prevent 
their  being  raised.  He,  indeed,  entered  into  the  mi 
nutiae  of  arrangements  with  a  feverish  interest. 

Mr.  Herndon  left  for  the  city  in  pursuance  of  his 


294  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

purpose,  and  a  few  days  after  his  arrival  there-  he  was 
seeking  a  vessel  bound  for  Cuba.  The  reader  will 
remember  that  when  Ormond  determined  to  go  to  the 
West  Indies,  and  Martinique  was  selected,  Mr.  Hern- 
don  was  present,  and  aware  of  the  place  of  their  desti 
nation.  He  now  took  passage  on  a  vessel  for  Cuba, 
in  the  expectation  of  getting  one  thence  for  Marti 
nique. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

"  And  the  cypress  lifted  a  blazing  spire, 
And  the  stems  of  the  cocoas  were  shafts  of  fire ; 
Many  a  white  pagoda's  gieam 
Slept  lovely  round  on  lake  and  stream." 

HEMANS. 

rTIHE  water  in  the  Bay  of  Naples  was  still  and  mir- 
•*•  ror-like.  A  blue  haze  filled  the  atmosphere,  and 
objects  seen  through  it  were  mellowed  and  softened 
into  a  dreamy  picture.  The  sky  had  no  cloud,  but 
was  of  that  deep  blue  tint  so  peculiar  to  Italy.  You 
could  see  through  it  further  up  into  heaven  than  in 
our  harsher  clime.  The  lofty  island  of  Capri,  seen  in 
the  distance,  appeared  a  fairy  isle,  floating  in  a  liquid 
rarer  than  air.  The  city  rose  gradually,  crowned  by 
the  hoary  castle  of  St.  Elmo.  The  hills  in  the  rear  of 
the  city  are  covered  with  vineyards,  villas  and  monas- 
teries.  There  is  the  Capo  di  Monti,  and  the  monastery 
of  San  Martina,  which  crowns  the  hills,  while  behind 
is  a  range  of  wooded  mountains. 

To  the  right  may  be  seen  "Vesuvius,  sending  up  a 
thin  spiral  wreath  of  smoke  to  heaven,  while  beyond 
all  are  dimly  observed  the  summits  of  the  Apennines. 

It  was  indeed  a  calm  and  bright  day,  such  as  this 
favored  clime  alone  can  boast.  On  the  mole,  leaning 
over  and  resting  on  an  old  gun,  which  was  sunk  into 
the  quay  for  a  post,  was  a  handsome  man,  of  appa- 


296  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

rently  some  forty  years.  He  was  gazing  pensively 
over  the  bay,  but  whether  his  eyes  were  bent  on  the 
heights  of  Vesuvius,  or  on  the  white  walls  of  Castel- 
mare,  the  old  town  of  Sorrento,  Tasso's  birthplace,  or 
taking  in  the  beautiful  villas  on  the  western  shore, 
you  could  not  tell.  By  and  by  he  awoke  as  if  from  a 
dream,  and  his  glance  fell  on  the  vessels  in  the  harbor. 

"  At  last,"  he  murmured.  "  At  last,  I  must  return 
home— to  my  dear  home.  I  must  mingle  there  with 
the  world,  as  of  yore.  I  must  renew  old  associations, 
and  make  new  friends.  I  must  laugh  and  be  gay, 
while  my  heart  is  buried  with  Caroline,  under  these 
summer  skies.  There  are  some  few  noble  hearts  left 
yet  on  earth ;  there  still  is  Ormond,  generous  and 
high-toned,  self-sacrificing  and  pure.  His  heart  will 
beat  a  throb  faster  when  he  sees  his  soul-weary  friend. 
And  you  too,  gentle  Maria — well-named — pure  and 
spotless,  simple  and  true — you  will  welcome  the 
wanderer  home ;  and,  for  the  sake  of  the  lost  Caroline, 
give  to  him  some  portion  of  the  esteem  you  felt  for 
her." 

The  speaker,  as  the  reader  has  discerned,  was  our 
friend,  Dr.  Grant.  He  had  wandered  hither  and  thither 
since  the  death  of  his  wife ;  from  Greece  to  Turkey ; 
from  the  sands  of  Palestine  to  the  icy  shores  of  the 
"White  Sea ;  from  the  wilds  of  Caucasus  to  the  capitals 
of  Continental  Europe  ;  and  now,  exhausted  and  worn- 
out  by  excitement,  which  he  had  sought  for,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  dull  the  pangs  of  grief,  now  he  had 
settled  down  into  a  calmer,  a  sadder,  and  a  wiser  man. 
He  had  come  to  Naples,  and  intended  to  embark  for 
America,  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  among  his 
friends. 


THE    CEEOLE    OKPHANS.  297 

"  Yes,"  lie  continued,  "  I  will  return  at  once  to  the 
land  of  my  birth.  All  I  love  now  are  there,  and  they 
will  sympathize  with  me,  and  cheer  a  broken  heart." 

Poor  fellow,  he  little  knew  the  tremendous  change 
which  death  had  made  during  his  absence,  in  that 
dearly-loved  circle,  to  which  he  was  hastening.  He 
little  dreamed  that  death  had  come  and  made  desolate 
that  happy  family  home ;  that  he  himself  was  their 
destined  avenger — an  avenger  in  whom  there  was  no 
pity,  no  relenting ;  and  that  he  was  hastening  on,  as 
remorseless  as  fate — to  prevent  a  wrong — to  rescue 
the  orphan's  heritage. 

Dr.  Grant  remained  in  the  posture  we  described,  his 
thoughts  wandering  far  over  the  sea,  and  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  waters  of  the  bay,  just  now  slightly 
sparkling  in  the  morning  breeze.  His  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  appearance  of  a  young  man,  who  was 
on  the  point  of  leaping  from  a  -boat  which  had  just 
run  her  bow  up  on  the  sandy  beach.  There  was  some 
thing  in  the  figure,  and  in  the  attitude  of  the  person, 
which  struck  him  as  familiar ;  yet  he  in  vain  conjec 
tured  whether  they  had  before  met.  He  was  on  the 
point  of  turning  off  toward  the  city,  when  the  stran 
ger's  voice  reached  his  ears.  He  was  giving  the  boat 
man  some  orders  respecting  a  bundle  which  contained 
his  portfolio.  The  doctor  paused,  and  kept  his  eye 
fixed  on  him  as  he  advanced.  His  hair  and  eyes  were 
piercingly  dark  ;  and  his  mouth  and  chin,  even  as  he 
came,  displayed  energy  in  repose.  He  was  an  emi 
nently  handsome  man ;  and,  as  he  walked,  the  sym 
metry  of  his  form  could  be  observed.  He  spoke  to 
his  attendant ;  his  voice  was  rich,  deep,  and  flexible ; 
it  sounded  like  an  old  familiar  tone ;  like  the  house- 

13* 


298  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

hold-music  winch  passes  through  the  seaman's  brain 
when,  rocked  by  the  billows,  he  fondly  dreams  of 
home.  That  tone  he  had  heard  in  happier  days ;  it 
was  then  not  so  rich — so  mellow — and  so  manly  ;  ye*t 
it  was  the  same.  Grant  shut  his  eyes;  he  was,  in 
imagination,  again  by  the  side  of  Caroline,  away  by 
the  cane-fields  of  Louisiana,  listening  to  the  song 
of  the  bird — the  hum  of  the  bee — the  harping  of 
heaven's  wind  through  the  branches  of  the  trees. 
The  stranger  passed  him ;  his  gaze,  for  the  first  time, 
fell  on  the  doctor ;  he  stopped  and  hesitated ;  then,  as 
if  reassured,  he  bowed  slightly,  and  was  about  to  pass 
on.  He  knew  him  not ;  years  had  passed ;  the  head 
of  the  doctor  bore  white  blossoms  of  the  grave,  and 
his  dress  was  foreign ;  but  that  slight  look  of  interest 
and  inquiry  told  him  all. 

"  Hold !"  exclaimed  he. 

The  stranger  obeyed,  and  turned.  Grant  was  at  his 
side  in  a  moment.  The  two  stood  mutely  gazing  into 
ea.ch  other's  hearts,  as  it  were ;  then,  as  if  by  a  simul 
taneous  impulse  of  recognition,  they  were  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms. 

"  Dr.  Grant  I". 

"Louis  Lamotte!"  were  the  exclamations  which 
passed ;  and  for  a  minute  the  only  ones. 

We  will  not  linger  on  the  meeting ;  the  thousand 
questions  of  interest  asked  and  replied  to  by  each  in  a 
short  time.  Any  one  who  has  been  for  years  away 
from  his  home  and  fireside,  a  wanderer  among  stran 
gers,  with  the  burden  of  a  broken-heart,  will  appreciate 
such  feelings,  at  such  a  time ;  especially  if  suddenly 
meeting  a  dear  and  valued  friend.  But  oh !  how  keen 
was  the  anguish  of  Grant,  when  Louis  informed  him 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  299 

of  the  death  of  Marie  I  How  his  heart  swelled  with 
grief,  and  how  scalding  was  the  tears  which  dropped 
on  his  young  friend's  hand ! 

"  Lamotte  I"  he  exclaimed,  brushing  them  away ; 
"  I  thought  I  had  done  with  this.  Tears !  Why,  I 
am  as  dry  as  a  mummy.  Well,  God  pity  me !  Poor, 
poor,  Ormond !  Your  heart  has  bled  like  your  friend's. 
Now  will  I  hasten  to  you  the  sooner  for  your  grief. 
But  Louis,  my  boy,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?"  he 
added,  banishing  with  an  effort  those  feelings. 

"  Why,  doctor,  the  truth  is,  that  a  year  ago  I  left 
the  Polytechnique  School,  determining  to  see  a  little 
of  the  world.  I  always  longed  to  visit  this  portion  of 
it ;  so,  I  left  books  and  philosophy,  and  set  off  on  foot 
with  my  knapsack  and  portfolio ;  and,  after  being 
every  where,  I  am  here." 

"  I  suppose  you  saw  Zoe  and  Estelle  before  you  left 
Paris?" 

Louis  blushed  deeply  at  this  question,  and  laughed 
in  a  confused  manner. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  "  and  I  am 
glad  of  it;  and  I  know  that  nothing  would  please 
Ormond  more.  Do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  tease 
you  about  Zoe  ?" 

"  I  remember  all,"  answered  Louis,  sighing. 

"  Oh,  well,  Louis,  if  the  woman  fulfills  the  promise 
of  the  girl,  either  of  the  sisters  are  worthy  of  the  most 
devoted  love,  even  of  so  gallant  a  fellow  as  yourself." 

{'  I  thank  you,  doctor ;  but  maybe  Ormond  may  not 
think  as  well  of  it  as  you." 

''Never  fear,  Louis;  you  are  a  favorite.  But  a 
truce  to  this.  Let  us  go  to  yonder  open  inn,  and,  I  '11 
be  sworn  a  glass  of  good  Cypress  will  set  us  to  rights. 


300  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

I  am  quite  choice  in  my  drink  now ;  but  I  do  not 
know  how  it  will  be  when  I  return  to  the  whisky  of 
the  Ohio.  Come,  that  bunch  of  grapes  over  the  door 
is  inviting — I  feel  a  great  change  already  in  me  at 
the  sight  of  your  face,  albeit  it  is  more  manly  than 
it  was." 

"  I  am  with  you,"  said  Louis. 

As  soon  as  they  were  seated,  the  doctor  drew  his 
chair  to  the  open  window,  and,  putting  his  feet  out  of 
the  latter,  a  VAm^ricaine,  resumed  the  conversation. 

"  "Well,  Louis,  my  heart  yearns  to  revisit  our  Fa 
therland,  to  look  -upon  her  tranquil  shores,  and  see 
the  broad  bosom  of  the  dear  old  muddy  Mississippi 
once  more.  My  future  life  can  never  be  an  unmixed 
stream  of  happiness ;  yet  I  submit  to  the  decrees  of  a 
fate  I  can  not  avoid.  1  have  at  last  concluded  to  re 
turn.  The  poet's  idea  is  one  that  finds  an  echo  in  my 
heart: 

"  My  dearest  home  I  my  childhood's  homo! 

Beyond  far  fairer  lands 
Thou  art,  despite  thine  aspect  wild, 

The  all  my  soul  demands. 
The  visions  of  the  loved  and  lost 

Are  blended  -with  each  scene, 
And  memory  lives  to  linger  o'er 

Each  spot  where  bliss  has  been." 

The  doctor  struggled  hard  with  his  feelings  ;  but,  in 
spite  of  his  exertions,  the  "  memory  of  other  days" 
caused  the  tear  to  glisten  in  his  eye.  "Louis,"  he 
said,  as  he  poured  out  the  sparkling  wine,  "drink I 
I  '11  try  and  bear  it,  and  leave  such  thoughts  for  my 
solitary  moments.  What  do  you  think  of  going  to 
America  ?" 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  301 

"  Doctor,"  lie  answered,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"  I  would  like  very  much  to  accompany  you,  but  the 
term  of  my  probation  has  hardly  expired." 

"  That  is  nonsense.  You  have  arrived  at  an  age  to 
judge  for  yourself.  Will  you  go?" 

"  Doctor,  you  have  touched  a  chord  in  my  heart.  I 
was  intending  to  visit  the  north  of  Europe,  but  I  will 
go  with  you." 

"Well  said,  my  brave  fellow  1"  answered  Grant, 
exultingly ;  "  we  will  go." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Louis. 

"  Eight,  my  boy !  right !  Your  company  will  be 
a  solace  to  me.  Instead  of  taking  ship  at  Genoa,  we 
will  at  once  to  Paris ;  and  there,  Louis,  we  will  see  the 
girls,  whom  I  love  as  much  as  if  they  were  my  own. 
A  day  or  two  there,  and  then  to  Havre." 

"  I  will  go,  doctor,  although  I  have  not  the  advice 
of  my  guardian ;  still,  he  will  not  blame  me." 

"  I  will  set  you  easy  on  that  score.  I  thank  you  for 
your  acquiescence,"  said  Grant,  taking  him  by  the 
hand,  and  shaking  it  heartily.  "Here  is  to  your 
health,  and  may  your  future  life  never  be  clouded  by 
a  single  storm." 

Louis,  thanking  him,  reciprocated  his  good  wishes, 
and  they  departed. 

The  day  was  spent  in  rambling  about  Naples  and 
its  environs.  Over  the  entombed  cities  at  the  base  of 
Vesuvius  they  roamed,  and  speculated  over  their  re 
mains.  Upon  the  island  of  Capri,  which  Tiberias 
chose  as  an  abode,  and  to  the  Cape  of  Minerva,  where 
the  Parthenopian  syren  dwelt ;  amid  the  ruins  of  form 
er  grandeur,  and  rich  associations  of  classic  lore,  the 
two  reunited  friends  spent  many  hours;  and  it  was 


302  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

only  when  the  sun  was  declining  that  they  wended 
their  way  homeward. 

At  length  night  came.  Ah !  who  can  conceive, 
but  those  who  have  experienced  it,  the  delicious  and 
voluptuous  languor  which  steals  over  one  here,  in  this 
heavenly  climate;  the  balmy  breeze  from  over  the 
bay,  freighted  with  perfumes;  the  laughter  of  the 
boatmen ;  the  merry  voices  of  passengers,  or,  maybe, 
of  a  gay  party  of  the  Neapolitans,  as  they  are  slowly 
rowed  over  the  glassy  bosom  of  the  water?  There 
was  the  sound  of  music  from  each  balcony ;  the  pal 
aces  of  the  nobles  were  illuminated  with  splendor ; 
and,  ever  and  anon,  the  far-off  song  of  the  fisherman 
over  the  water,  was  heard  piously  ascending  to  the 
Virgin. 

Then,  the  mole  which  projected  far  out  into  the  bay, 
was  covered  with  idlers  of  all  nations.  *  There  was  the 
big-speaking  Englishman,  the  querulous  Frenchman, 
the  silver-tongued  Italian,  and  the  melodious  Spaniard. 

Around  a  kind  of  troubadour  were  gathered  a  knot 
of  sailors,  mostly  natives,  who  were  listening  with 
silent  interest  to  the  songs  of  the  musician — an  interest 
broken  only  by  some  expression  of  pleasure  from  the 
attentive  group. 

Our  friends  sat  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  which, 
reflecting  the  blue  sky  and  bright  stars,  made  them 
seem  swimming  in  a  bath  of  liquid  light.  It  appeared 
as  if  one  could  see  far  down  into  another  world,  so 
pure,  so  bright  and  transparent  was  the  crystal  sheet 
before  them.  Louis  listened  to  the  doleful  strain  of 
the  musician,  telling  the  story  of  some  lovely  maid 
carried  off  by  corsairs.  The  doctor's  thoughts  were 
far  away,  wandering  back  to  a  little  mound  of  earth, 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  303 

clothed  with  flowers.  Sad  memories  were  busy  at  his 
heart.  It  was  on  such  a  night  as  this  that  he  bade 
adieu  to  that  angel,  who,  from  among  the  pure  and 
beautiful  lights  of  Paradise,  was  now  looking  dawn  on 
the  beloved  partner  of  her  brief  earthly  happiness. 

The  following  morning  a  golden  mist  was  in  the 
atmosphere,  as  our  travelers  embarked  in  a  small  fe 
lucca  for  Genoa. 

A  week  elapsed,  and  it  was  mid-day,  as  the  two  pass 
engers,  from  Lyons,  covered  with  dust,  alighted  from 
a  diligence  at  one  of  the  principal  hotels  in  Paris. 

"  This  begins  to  seem  like  civilization,"  said  the 
doctor,  as  they  looked  from  their  window  upon  the 
populous  street,  and  as  he  arranged  his  toilet. 

Louis,  who  was  lounging  on  a  bed,  added,  "  "We 
want  only  a  New  Orleans  mint-julep  to  render  the  de 
ception  perfect." 

In  the  evening  they  left  the  hotel  to  seek  the  con 
vent.  Dr.  Grant,  with  the  feeling  of  a  foafl.  father, 
longed  to  press  to  his  bosom  the  children  of  his  dear 
est  friend ;  and  Louis,  who  loved,  and  had  always 
loved,  felt  a  strange  emotion  in  his  breast,  at  the 
thought  of  again  seeing  the  object  of  his  pure  affection. 
He  had  sometimes  gone  too  see  the  girls  during  the 
first  year  of  their  sojourn  in  Paris ;  but  of  late  he  had 
not  gone  so  frequently.  He  did  pay  them  a  visit  be 
fore  he  left  Paris  on  his  rambles,  and  so  from  them 
first  learned  the  death  of  their  mother. 

The  heavy  Gothic  architecture  of  the  convent  soon 
came  in  view,  and  they  proceeded  to  the  principal  en 
trance.  The  portress  appeared ;  the  doctor  asked  for 
the  Superior,  and  was  ushered  into  the  parlor.  Scarce 
three  minutes  elapsed  before  she  entered  the  room. 


304  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

After  introducing  themselves,  the  object  of  their 
visit  was  stated. 

"Ah,  gentlemen,"  she  replied;  "you  can  not  be 
aware  of  the  melancholy  occurrence  which — ." 

"Good  Heavens  I  madam!"  vehemently  cried  Dr. 
Grant,  wholly  forgeting  the  presence  in  which  he  stood, 
and  the  sanctity  of  the  place.  "  Your  looks  tell  of 
something  dreadful,  speak  out!  has  any  thing  hap 
pened  ?"  Then  recovering  himself  and  actually  blush 
ing,  he  continued.  "  Forgive  me,  madam !  but  I  am 
a  dear  friend  of  their  father's,  and  your  hesitation 
caused  me  to  feel  uneasy." 

"  Dear  sir,"  she  replied,  "  my  forgiveness  you  have. 
I  have  heard  the  dear  children,  in  speaking  of  their 
home,  mention  your  name  with  kindness.  But  the 
young  ladies  have  gone  to  America,  in  charge  of  a 
gentleman  sent  for  them  by  a  relative,  a  Mr.  Talbot." 

"Ha!  treason!"  exclaimed  the  doctor;  "the  infer 
nal  villain.  And  does  Colonel  Ormond,  their  father, 
sanction  this,  madam?" 

"  Alas !  sir,  he  lives  no  longer." 

"  Dead,  dead  I"  shouted  he,  leaping  from  his  seat. 
"  It  is  impossible !  When !  where !  did  this  occur  ? 
This  is  a  most  fearful  blow !  Is  this  true,  madam  ? 
or  have  they  imposed  on  your  credulity  ?  Ormond 
dead !  no,  it  can  not  be." 

"I  know  not,  sir."  replied  the  Superior,  who  ap 
peared  to  be  slightly  offended,  "  if  I  have  been  im 
posed  upon,  but  I  have  the  letters  written  to  me  by 
their  kinsman,  and  that  was,  I  suppose,  a  sufficient 
authority  for  me." 

" Then  pray,  madam,  let  me  see  them;  this  blow  is 
so  sudden,  so  unlocked  for." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHAN'S.  305 

She  rang  a  small  bell ;  a  domestic  stood  before  her ; 
she  gave  her  an  order,  and  the  woman  disappeared, 
but  returned  directly,  bearing  a  package  of  papers, 
which  she  proceeded  to  examine.  The  doctor  all  this 
while  was  walking  hastily  back  and  forth  the  room, 
his  mind  a  tumult,  and  his  brain  confused.  When 
the  sister  entered  with  the  papers  he  walked  to  the 
Superior  and  hastily  seized  the  proffered  letter  of  Tal- 
bot.  He  hurriedly  read  it,  then  crushing  it  in  his 
hand,  exclaimed — 

"  By  the  powers  of  a  higher  world !  Ormond,  my 
friend !  but  I  will  avenge  you,  if  you  have  been  in 
jured — I  will  save  your  children  from  the  monster. 
If  I  fail  in  this,  I  will  shave  my  head  and  become  a 
monk  the  remainder  of  my  life. 

"  Madam,  I  offer  you  my  excuses  for  my  discourt 
eous  manner ;  but  when  the  heart  is  stirred  with  agony 
there  is  no  time  for  conventionalities.  I  had  a  friend 
who  has  been  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  I  very 
much  suspect  that  this  person,  Talbot,  is  trying  to 
play  a  foul  game,  which,  for  want  of  proof,  may  be 
successful." 

"  He  is  the  near  relative  of  Colonel  Ormond,  and  I 
presume  has  a  right  to  a  portion  of  the  property,  and 
the  guardianship  of  the  children." 

"No  more  than  you  have,  madam;  but  how  long 
have  they  been  gone  ?" 

"  About  three  weeks,  sir." 

"  Then  there  is  yet  time.  He  has  the  game  to  him 
self.  Madam,  farewell !  Come  Louis,  now  for  venge 
ance!  Oh,  Ormond,  my  friend,  and  you  too  gone  !" 

Louis  was  much  shocked,  and  he  remained  as  if 
stunned  while  this  scene  was  being  enacted.  But  he 


306  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

at  once  went  to  the  hotel  with  Dr.  Grant,  and  took  the 
Diligence  for  Havre. 

"We  next  find  our  excellent  friends  leaning  over  the 
bulwarks  of  a  vessel  bound  for  Charleston,  in  America, 
and  watching  the  receding  shores  of  France. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

•'He  loured  on  her  with  dangerous  eye-glance, 
Showing  his  nature  in  his  countenance." 

SPENSEK'S  Fa'try  Queene. 

TI7"E  again  call  upon  the  scene-shifter  and  turn  to 
'  *  others  of  our  characters.  Zoe  and  Estelle  sailed 
from  Havre  under  the  protection  of  Stamps.  He 
scarcely  knew  how  to  conduct  himself  toward  them. 
He  was  fearful  if  he  treated  them  with  too  much  re- 
spect;  knowing  the  licentious  character  of  Talbot,  that 
he  would  be  laughed  at.  He  had  been  candidly  told 
the  condition  of  the  girls  before  he  left,  and  he  knew 
that  Talbot  could  and  would  claim  them  as  slaves. 
Yet  still  when  he  looked  on  them  in  all  their  youth 
and  grace,  and  beauty,  his  rising  feelings  would  be 
checked  by  their  dignified  modesty.  At  the  same 
time  he  had  determined  the  fate  of  one  of  them  at 
least,  upon  their  arrival  in  New  Orleans.  He,  how 
ever,  concluded  to  act  toward  them  under  present  cir 
cumstances  with  respect ;  but  he  could  not  avoid  let 
ting  them  observe  his  ardent  gaze  fixed  on  them  as 
they  came  on  deck.  They  were  disgusted  and  alarmed, 
and  longed  for  the  termination  of  the  voyage,  well 
believing  that  in  Mr.  Herndon  they  would  find  a  pro 
tector.  To  heighten  this  feeling  on  their  part,  he  on© 
day  informed  them  that  he  was  aware  of  the  relation 
in  which  Colonel  Ormond  stood  to  their  mother. 


308  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

"What  agony  these  two  poor  unprotected  orphans 
experienced,  can  only  be  imagined  by  the  virtuous 
and  good ;  and  they  felt  ftn  unaccountable  relief  when 
the  line  of  coast  which  debouches  out  from  the  main 
land  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  came  in  sight ;  but  they 
sighed  when  they  remembered  that  here  they  parted 
years  before  with  those  who  were  now  no  more ; 
whose  glad  smile  and  endearing  embrace  would  have 
atoned  for  the  absence  of  so  many  long  years.  No ! 
those  dear  parents  were  now  no  more,  and  they  felt  in 
approaching  their  native  shores  as  strangers  and  exiles. 
They  had  noticed  the  singular  attentions  which  Stamps 
showed  them,  and  which  gradually  increased  in  bold 
ness,  until  they  almost  arose  to  violence.  Shudderingly 
they  received  them,  but  feared  to  offend  the  only  one 
whom  they  could  call  protector.  Many  were  the  tears 
the  unhappy  girls  shed  as  they  sought  their  state 
rooms  to  lament  over  the  sad  fate  which  placed  them 
in  his  power ;  for  they  felt  that  they  were  in  his  power, 
and  began  to  dread  the  moment  of  their  separation 
from  the  rest  of  the  passengers. 

It  was  not  that  Stamps  had  said  any  thing  very 
pointed,  or  spoken  plainly  of  his  feelings  ;  but  he  had 
intimated  to  them  that  they  were  wholly  dependent 
upon  the  bounty  of  Talbot ;  and  observed  that  a  strict 
compliance  with  his  wishes  would  be  beneficial  to  them. 

We  say  that  Stamps  had  never  spoken  out  plainly  ; 
but  it  was  with  horror  that  they  were  forced  to  certain 
conclusions.  -Ah,  although  reared  within  the  sacred 
walls  of  a  convent,  they  had  tact  enough  to  appreciate 
it  all.  Like  the  shrinking  mimosa,  whose  delicate 
organization  heralds  the  approach  of  danger,  their 
souls  recoiled  and  contracted  at  his  approach. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  309 

Females  have  an  instinctive  feeling,  which  prompts 
them  to  beware  when  an  enemy  draws  near ;  and 
words,  looks,  actions,  are  all  rapidly  understood,  and 
virtue  easily  takes  the  alarm  before  the  attack  is 
made. 

So  it  was  with  the  orphans ;  they  knew  that  a  secret 
meaning  lurked  in  Stamp's  breast,  although  perhaps 
they  were  not  such  graduates  in  the  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil  as  those  who  are  raised  in  the  school  of  city 
dissipation.  Still  they  comprehended  most  of  the 
enormous  villainy  before  the  voyage  was  completed. 
But  the  wicked  plotting  against  their  peace  of  mind 
was  not  understood  or  appreciated  by  them.  Oh !  no ; 
had  the  full  truth  burst  upon  their  affrighted  souls, 
they  would  have  shrunk  back  aghast  with  horror,  and 
the  blue  waves  of  the  gulf  would  have  closed  over 
them  before  they  would  have  left  the  ship's  side  with 
their  enemy. 

As  for  Stamps,  he  had  at  first  been  deterred  from 
acting  in  a  disrespectful  manner,  but  as  they  advanced, 
and  familiarity  wore  off  some  of  the  diffidence  he  nat 
urally  possessed,  his  feelings  began  to  be  wildly  excited 
He  determined  to  restrain  those  emotions,  until  a 
proper  moment,  and  to  fulfill  his  promise  to  Talbot ; 
but  he  had  been  rocked  upon  the  billows  of  passion 
from  a  child,  and  never  knew  the  salutary  influence  of 
self-control. 

He  sat  down  and  played  chess  with  them  or  watched 
their  sylph-like  figures  as  they  promenaded  the  deck ; 
or  sat  entranced  and  gazed  at  them,  as  they  reclined 
at  mid-day  on  the  cabin  sofas. 

Then  with  set  teeth,  and  quickened  pulse,  he  would 
swear  that  Zoe  should  be  his.  In  fact  he  was  madly, 


310  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

deeply  enamored  with  her  beauty,  and  felt  that  he 
would  dare  the  wrath  of  Heaven,  to  possess  her. 

He  was,  as  we  have  shown,  a  depraved  man,  and 
scarcely  knew  reason,  law,  or  honor.  In  other  respects 
he  was  not  so  lost  to  all  the  ennobling  qualities  which 
ornament  mankind.  He  was  a  bold  man,  and  would 
scruple  at  no  means  to  accomplish  his  object.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  generous,  and  would  even  put  him 
self  out  of  the  way  to  do  a  favor  to  a  friend.  He 
had  sworn  to  keep  within  the  bounds  of  propriety 
with  the  girls,  and,  therefore  exercised  a  partial  con 
trol  over  his  emotions.  He  promised  Talbot  not  to 
communicate  the  secret  regarding  the  property,  and 
their  actual  situation,  until  their  arrival  in  New 
Orleans. 

Thus  were  the  parties,  when  the  ship  was  taken  in  tow 
at  the  Balize.  Then  in  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  pack 
ing  up  cases,  and  getting  in  and  out  their  luggage,  those 
feelings  were  diverted  from  their  tempestuous  course  for 
a  brief  period.  The  vessel  reached  the  wharf;  and  the 
voyage  was  over.  They  stood  on  the  soil  of  their 
nativity,  without  a  friend  or  a  guide. 

It  was  at  a  splendid  hotel,  crowded  with  guests,  and 
filled  with  all  the  appurtenances  of  comfort  and  luxury 
that  the  coach  stopped,  and  the  victims  were  soon  ush 
ered  into  a  handsome  private  parlor  adjoining  their 
chamber. 

Stamps  had  performed  his  part  of  the  contract  and 
he  looked  for  his  reward. 

After  supper  he  appeared  in  their  chamber  from  his 
own,  which  was  immediately  adjoining.  They  were 
standing  at  a  window  looking  out  upon  the  lighted 
streets,  and  hurriedly  consulting  with  each  other  as  to 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  311 

what  Talbot  would  do  in  regard  to  their  father's  prop 
erty,  which  they  believed  belonged  to  them. 

"  "Was  it  not  our  father's?"  said  Estelle,  "and  is  it 
not  in  justice  ours  now  ?  what  right  has  this  man  to 
deprive  us  of  it?  He  surely  will  not  do  it." 

"Oh, sister,"  replied  Zoe,  "we  have  been  away  a 
long  time,  and  maybe,  we  have  lost  all  claim  to  it ;  Mr. 
Stamps  says  we  are  dependent  on  Mr.  Talbot  even  for 
our  very  bread." 

"  Then  I  had  rather  work  for  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  I 
can  sew,  and  you,  sister,  can  teach  drawing  and  music." 

"Yes,  yes,  we  can  ;  or  I  might  obtain  a  place  as  a 
governess,  and — 

"  Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,  ladies,"  exclaimed  a  voice 
quite  close  to  them.  They  both  started,  and  drew 
closer  to  each  other.  It  was  Stamps,  who  had  stolen 
in  unperceived. 

"Now,  young  ladies,"  he  said,  as  he  negligently 
threw  himself  upon  a  sofa,  and  flung  his  legs  over  the 
back  of  a  chair;  "it  is  better — to — 4o  take  things 
moderately  at  first ;  and  if  you  will  promise  me  not  to  in 
terrupt  but  to  listen  to  me,  I  will  say  something  to  you, 
which  may  put  you  on  better  terms  with  me." 

They  silently  looked  at  one  another,  and  made  no 
reply,  but  seated  themselves. 

"Now,"  continued  he,  "first,  you  know  who  your 
mother  was  ?" 

"  We  do,  sir,"  replied  Estelle ;  "  and  if  it  be  of  that 
dear  parent  you  are  to  speak,  we  desire  to  hear  no 
more.  You  have  already  spoken  once  before  of  her 
in  a  manner  that  no  child  would  bear." 

"  Hoity  toity !"  laughed  he  ;  "  that  is  so  far  so  good. 
Now,  hear  me ;  for  you  must  hear  me,  whether  you 


312  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

will  or  no.  I  have  to  say  that  to  you  which  you  had 
better  listen  to.  Well,  your  mother  was  a  Quadroon 
woman,  unmarried — mark  that,  unmarried — but  living 
with  Colonel  Ormond.  By  him  she  had  children. 
She  was  a  slave" 

"  That  is  false,  sir  I"  exclaimed  both  the  girls  at 
once,  rising,  while  a  tempest  of  rage  flashed  in  their 
eyes.  "  That  is  a  base  falsehood,  sir !" 

"  Well,  all  this  is  mighty  fine ;  but  the  fact  was 
proved  in  court  long  ago,  and  not  only  that  she  died 
a  slave,  but  that  you  two  educated  ladies  are  slaves. 
Talbot  is  the  heir,  and  you  will  be  disposed  of  as  he 
wishes." 

He  paused  for  a  reply ;  but  astonishment,  anger  and 
grief  had  stricken  them  dumb  ;  they  sat  as  if  stupified. 
He  was  encouraged,  and  proceeded. 

"  Now,  I  will  form  a  plan  against  Talbot,  and  assist 
you.  I  have  long  loved  you,  Zoe — yield  to  me.  Be 
mine  without  the  forms  of  the  Church,  and  he  never 
shall  have  power  to  injure  you." 

"Accursed  fiend !"  exclaimed  Zoe,  rising  suddenly, 
in  unutterable  indignation.  "  Begone !  and  believe  - 
me,  I  would  sooner  die  than  be  your  lawful,  wife, 
much  less  the  thing  you  would  make  me.  Leave  us, 
sir !"  And  here  she  became  overpowered  by  contend 
ing  emotions,  and  sunk  again  into  the  chair  in  an 
agony  of  tears. 

"  Is  there  no  law  in  this  land  to  protect  the  or 
phan  ?"  exclaimed  Estelle.  "  If  there  is,  I  will  appeal 
to  it." 

"You  had  better  not,  miss.  In  this  case  there  is  no 
help.  Your  best  mode  is  to  rely  on  my  protection,  to 
make  a  friend  of  me." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  313 

"  A  friend !  yes,  a  fiend  /"  said  Zoe,  raising  her 
"head.  "  You  are  a  friend  !  The  tiger  would  defend 
the  unprotected  lamb ;  the  hawk  will  guard  the  dove." 

"  You  may  think  you  are  right,"  he  said  ;  "  but  it 
is  not  my  wish  to  injure  you,  and  to  prove  it,  I  now, 
Zoe,  offer  you  my  hand  in  honorable  marriage." 

He  had  taken  this  step  to  gain  his  purpose,  because 
he  saw  it  would  not  answer  to  bring  the  matter  to  a 
denouement  too  soon,  and  by  force.  He  thought  to 
lull  their  suspicion,  and  then  make  an  easy  prey. 

Zoe  replied — "  Mr.  Stamps,  your  insulting  proposal 
is  too  fresh  in  my  mind  for  me  to  listen  to  you  on  any 
subject.  "We  never  could  be  any  nearer,  and  I  would 
never  marry  you.  If  you  have  the  soul  of  a  man,  or 
the  slightest  spark  of  generosity,  leave  us,  and  hasten 
to  Mr.  Talbot,  and  say  we  await  his  arrival,  and  we 
will  try  to  believe  this  a  horrible  dream." 
•  ll  Nay,  nay ;  I  do  not  leave  here  until  you  have 
given  me  some  encouragement — some  hope  for  me  to 
work  upon." 

"  I  can  not  bid  you  hope,"  said  Zoe,  who  thought  it 
best  to  delay  giving  him  a  decided  and  indignant  re 
fusal,  well  knowing  that  she  was  in  his  power,  and 
that  he  might  be  induced  to  use  coercion.  "  Go  and 
leave  us ;  and  oh !  take  pity  on  us.  We  are  unpro 
tected." 

Stamps  arose.  "I  will  go,"  he  said,  "and  at  once 
write  to  Talbot,  who  will  be  down  on  the  first  boat ; 
but  remember,  you  will  find  no  sympathy  in  his 
bosom.  Decide  on  my  protection." 

"  We  confide  in  the  protection  of  one  greater  than 
you,"  said  Zoe. 

"  Who  is  he?" 

14 


314  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"God!" 

"  I  don't  know  him,"  was  the  answer  of  Stamps,  as 
he  left  the  room. 

Stamps  retired  to  his  room,  and  there  sat  down. 
The  following  note  was  dispatched  that  night  by  mail 
to  Talbot.  . 

"  -  Hotel,  NEW  ORLEANS, 
"May  15,  18—. 

"  DEAR  TOLLY  :  — 

"I  have  arrived,  and  the  two  birds  are  safely 
caged.  Hasten  to  me,  and  say  that  I  have  succeeded 
well.  I  await  my  reward,  as  your  promise  is  re 
corded,  and  I  have  set-  my  heart  on  its  fulfillment. 
Hasten  !  I  expect  you.  I  have  taken  rooms  here. 
Inquire  for  '  Mr.  Brown  and  the  two  Misses  Brown?  as 
these  are  the  names  I  have  assumed.  I  was  not  green 
enough  to  give  our  real  names.  Come  on  !  "We  will 
have  fun,  for  we  are  as  retired  here,  in  this  populous 
hotel,  as  we  would  be  in  a  desert.  Yours  ever, 

"  STAMPS. 
"  P.  S.  Zoe  is 


"When  this  letter  was  sent  off,  he  returned  to  his 
room,  and  there  remained,  guarding  the  treasures 
which  the  next  chamber  contained. 

In  the  solitude  of  his  chamber,  he  gave  the  rein  to 
his  imagination.  He  listened  attentively  to  every 
sound  from  his  neighbors,  and  played  the  jealous 
sentinel  to  perfection. 

During  the  long,  long  night,  he  lay,  and  while  the 
innocent  children  were  offering  up  their  pure  petitions 
to  their  Heavenly  Guardian,  he  was  wrapped  in  sinful 
dreams. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  315 

The  next  day  lie  dined  with  many  of  the  passengers 
of  the  ship,  and  wine  flowed  freely. 

It  was  evening  again.  The  girls  sat  in  their  cham 
ber,  clothed  in  mourning ;  their  faces  were  pale,  and 
grief  had  left  its  impress;  for  their  brows  were  troub 
led,  and  their  eyes  were  red  with  weeping. 

Stamps  had  been  drinking  freely,  for  his  cheeks 
were  flushed,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with  the.  excite 
ment  of  wine.  Unbidden,  he  entered  their  apartment. 

"  Zoe,"  he  said,  while  his  eyes  glowed  with  a  de 
moniacal  light  as  he  surveyed  her  beauteous  form,  "I 
cannot  endure  this  suspense.  You  must  be  mine.  I 
adore  you.  Will  you  be  mine  ?"  He  here  approached 
her,  and  his  breath  burned  her  cheek.  She  drew  back 
in  affright,  and  exclaimed, 

"  Mr.  Stamps,  sir,  for  heaven's  sake  do  not  impose 
on  our  unprotected  state ;  be  a  man." 

"  Zoe,  listen,"  he  said ;  "be  mine,  I  will  protect  you 
against  the  world.  Talbot  will  sell  you  as  a  slave; 
and  he  will  force  you — compel  you  to  submit." 

"He  never,  never  will — he  shall  not — I  will  die 
first." 

"  Then  you  will  die ;  for  you  are  in  his  power — a 
slave — and  he  has  the  power.  Come,  consent  to  be 
mine."  Here  he  caught  her  by  the  arm  forcibly,  and 
essayed  to  draw  her  near. 

"  Spare  me,  spare  me  I"  she  cried,  falling  on  her 
knees,  and  imploring  him  with  piteous  accents. 

This  seemed  to  inflame  the  fiend  still  more;  his 
eyes  sparkled  with  agitation.  He  approached  nearer ; 
but  she  glided  from  him,  and  ran  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room.  Her  hair  had  become  disheveled  in  the 
struggle,  and  she  trembled  violently  with  terror.  He 


316  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

pursued,  and  again  caught  her  in  his  arms.  Zoe  was 
nearly  senseless  from  alarm,  could  only  utter  a  feeble 
cry,  and  then  sank  on  the  floor.  He  seized  her  in  his 
arms,  and  lifting  her  up,  bore  her  swiftly  to  her  cham 
ber.  She  was  aroused,  and  again  pleaded  as  if  for  her 
life. 

"  Oh,  sir  pray  !  Oh !  do  not,  for  the  sake  of  the 
Holy  Virgin,  do  me  this  grievous  wrong.  Oh  !  have 
pity  on  an  orphan  child !  Oh  !  my  father,  my  mother  1 
Look  down  and  protect  your  child.  God  hear  me !" 
Stamps  bore  her  to  the  couch,  and  stood  by  her  side 
in  his  unholy  frenzy. 

During  all  this  time,  Estelle  was  crouching  in  a 
corner,  with  her  fingers  in  her  ears,  more  dead  than 
alive.  She  knew  that  assistance  was  not  at  hand. 
She  knew  that  the  door  was  locked ;  and  that  her 
feeble  cry  for  aid  would  only  irritate  the  wretch,  and 
avail  her  nothing. 

Zoe  lay  with  her  heart  fluttering  like  a  wounded 
dove — her  eyes  starting  with  horror.  Stamps  placed 
himself  by  her  side. 

She  started  up — "  Oh,  sir  I  I  am  under  your  pro 
tection  ;  do  not  dishonor  yourself.  You  are  welcome 
to  all  our  fortune." 

"  That  is  already  gone,"  he  said. 

"  Then  spare  me — I  will  be  your  slave — even  bear 
with  me  for  a  time ;  I  will  try  and  conquer  my  feel 
ings  ;  but  oh,  spare  me  now  I" 

"  Never,  never!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Spare  me,  for  the  sake  of  my  friends  1  Oh,  for 
the  sake  of  all  you  hold  dear !  Have  you  a  sister  ? 
By  her  honor !  By  your  MOTHER  !  She  may  be  in 
her  grave — I  charge  you  by  her  memory — by  the  days 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  317 

of  your  youth  and  innocence,  and  by  her  gray  hairs  1 
Oh,  spare  me,  spare  me  !" 

Never  did  a  more  decided  effect  follow  an  invo 
cation.  The  appeal  to  him,  "by  the  memory  of  his 
mother,"  was  like  oil  poured  upon  angry  billows.  It 
said,  "Peace,  be  still  1"  Stamps  descended  from  a 
state  of  excitement  into  a  calm.  He  drew  back,  and 
sank  down,  with  his  hands  over  his  eyes. 

"  Zoe,"  he  said,  "  you  have  conquered.  You  have 
appealed  to  me  in  the  name  of  my  mother.  That 
name  with  me  is  sacred.  Her  gray  hairs  are  your 
protection.  E"o  !  I  will  not  harm  you.  Be  at  peace. 
Here  is  the  key  of  your  apartment — I  leave  you."  He 
turned  away.  Zoe  sprang  forward  and  caught  him 
by  the  hand.  She  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  passionately, 
and  exclaimed ;  "  Bless  you  1  bless  you !"  Then, 
sinking  on  the  floor,  she  burst  into  a  torrent  of  tears. 
He  stood  still  a  moment — a  tear  dimmed  his  eye — he 
sighed  heavily,  and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

TTTE  now  return  to  Talbot.  He  had  gradually 
accustomed  himself  to  the  great  change  in  his 
fortunes,  and  bore  it  philosophically.  He  superin 
tended  the  economy  of  the  plantation  with  as  natural 
an  air  as  if  he  had  been  raised  in  the  South,  and  felt 
his  own  importance  in  no  slight  degree.  The  fright 
which  Pierre  had  given  him  was  over,  and  Pierre  was 
more  humble  and  more  obedient  than  ever.  Time 
passed  on,  and  the  feeling  of  uneasiness  which  would 
often  creep  over  him  had  almost  entirely  vanished. 
He  felt  secure  in  his  seat.  He  had  long  since  dis 
pensed  with  the  services  of  Hiver,  who,  mistaken  in 
his  calculations  regarding  the  plucking  he  intended  to 
have  off  the  young  goose,  retired  in  disgust  and  mor 
tification  to  his  dingy  law  books.  But  they  some 
times  met ;  and  Hiver  managed,  by  a  show  of  knowl 
edge  of  his  affairs,  to  keep  a  slight  hold  on  him. 

He  knew  that  Mr.  Herndon  was  absent  from  home ; 
but,  of  course,  imagined  he  was  in  the  city.  He  knew 
not  the  dreadful  storm  that  was  gathering  over  him  ; 
that  the  clouds  were  accumulating,  and  the  lightning 
of  vengeance  gathering.  He  heard  not  the  distant 
muttering  of  the  thunder,  nor  the  rising  wind.  No  I 
secure  and  tranquil,  he  dreamed  of  naught  but  bright 
skies  and  calm  seas. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  319 

He  was  dreaming  of  the  arrival  of  the  orphan  chil 
dren  of  Colonel  Ormond,  and  his  prurient  imagination 
was  excited  by  the  pictures  which  were  constantly 
painted  on  his  mind. 

The  reader  well  knows  the  wicked  ideas  which  had 
been  generated  and  fostered  in  his  brain,  and  with 
what  pertinacity  he  clung  to  the  frightful  images.  He 
now  only  waited  the  arrival  of  Stamps  to  secure  in 
his  power  the  innocent  girls. 

A  few  weeks  rolled  by.  He  had  decided  in  his  own 
mind  the  course  to  pursue ;  for  he  had  lost,  if  he  ever 
had  possessed,  all  compunction  of  feeling  for  the  sad 
fate  of  those  he  should  have  loved  and  guarded,  if 
not  for  their  own  sake,  at  least  from  gratitude  for  the 
kindness  shown  to  him  by  their  father,  when  he  came 
to  the  country  a  penniless  adventurer.  But  such  feel 
ings  were  to  him  unknown,  for  his  whole  soul  was  en 
veloped  in  self. 

At  first  he  had  rather  hesitated  in  what  manner  to 
receive  the  girls.  He  had  thought  that,  to  keep  up 
appearances,  and  save  himself,  it  were  best  to  put 
them  in  obscurity,  and  on  a  small  pension  ;  but  when 
the  .words  of  Hiver  rang  in  his  ears,  "  The  children 
shall  follow  the  condition  of  the  mother"  and  he  felt 
that  he  was  unmolested,  and  had  the  legal  right  on 
his  side  to  act,  he  determined,  if  they  pleased  him,  to 
compel  them  to  his  wishes ;  and  when  the  determina 
tion  was  fixed,  the  thing  appeared  less  monstrous  than 
at  first.  Thus  it  is  :  when  the  first  thought  of  crime 
comes  into  the  mind,  it  is  struck  with  horror,  and 
shrinks,  appalled,  from  the  contact ;  but  as  we  accus 
tom  ourselves  to  think  on  it,  the  blackness  assumes  a 
lighter  tint,  and  we  can  revolve  it  in  our  minds  with- 


320  ^    THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

out  fear.  At  length  it  ceases  to  revolt  us  at  all.  What 
lessons  this  teaches  us  !  How  guarded  we  should  be ! 
how  careful  to  banish  the  very  first  thought  of  guilt — 
to  shrink  from  its  loathsome  touch,  and  sternly  refuse 
to  give  the  thought  a  place  in  our  bosoms. 

He  chanced  to  be  in  the  county  town.  At  the  post- 
office  a  letter  was  handed  to  him,  and  by  the  peculiar 
fold  and  writing,  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  from 
Stamps.  He  coolly  put  it  in  his  pockety  but,  when 
he  was  secure  from  observation,  to  tear  it  open  was 
the  work  of  a  moment. 

"  Ah !  now,"  he  exclaimed,  as  his  eyes  sparkled, 
"  now  comes  the  tug  of  war  again.  Billy  must  be 
paid ;  it  must  be  with  money.  Who  would  think  he 
could  have  the  impudence  to  require  such  a  thing  ? 
He  expects  me  to  fulfill  my  promise ;  but  I  must  see 
them  before  I  decide  to  reject  his  suit.  Ha  !  ha  !  what 
a  kind  cousin  I  am  !  But,  Billy — it  will  never  do  to 
make  an  enemy  of  him.  He  is  too  reckless,  too  bold, 
and  would  sacrifice  himself  and  me.  So  I  must  see 
them."  With  this  determination,  he  walked  up  to  the 
village  hotel,  and,  leaving  orders  to  have  his  horse 
sent  to  the  plantation,  he  waited  for  a  boat. 

"  I  am  now  going  on  a  mission  new  to  me,"  he  said, 
as  he  stepped  off  the  plank  of  a  steamer  in  New  Or 
leans.  "  I  am  now  engaging  in  the  intrigues  of  Cupid. 
Ah !  and  how  many  men  have  been  wrecked  by  the 
soft  blandishments  of  the  little  divinity ;  but  I  am 
bred  for  a  sterner  court,  and  will  beware  1" 

With  a  palpitating  heart  he  approached  the  hotel 
where  the  objects  of  his  unnatural  persecution  were 
housed.  He  looked  cautiously  around  him.  Stamps 
was  standing  on  the  portico  of  the  hotel,  which  over- 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  321 

looked  the  street.  Suddenly  his  eye  lit  upon  Talbot, 
and,  uttering  a  cry  of  joy,  he  called  his  name,  and 
dove  down  the  steps,  intending  to  pounce  upon 
him ;  but  the  person  he  slapped  on  the  shoulder,  ex 
claiming  in  a  voice  of  a  high  tone,  "  Tolly !  Tolly  !  I 
am  so  glad  to  see  you  I"  was  a  stranger,  for  Talbot  had 
apprehended  the  reception,  and  discovered  Stamps  ere 
he  had  seen  him ;  so,  when  he  saw  him  descending 
upon  him,  he  adroitly  stepped  into  a  hair-dressing 
saloon. 

The  looks  of  Stamps  were  woeful  and  blank  in  the 
extreme.  He  gazed  in  the  gentleman's  face  a  mo 
ment  in  amazement,  and  exclaimed,  "  Bewitched  1" 
and  then,  with  his  head  on  his  breast,  slowly  went  up 
the  steps  again.  But  Talbot  soon  joined  him,  and  told 
him  that  he  had  played  the  trick  on  him  to  avoid  a 
public  display. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  prudent  fellow,  Tolly !"  he  said; 
"  you  are  cut  out  for  a  Talleyrand ;  you  are  a  keen 
one,"  he  continued,  again  jumping  up  and  shaking 
hands  with  him.  .  "  Well,  Tolly,  how  do  you  think  I 
have  done,  eh  ?" 

"  Well,  I  prefer  talking  over  our  affairs  in  some 
other  place  than  here.  They  will  hardly  bear  too 
much  light.  Come,  let  us  take  a  drink,  and  we  can 
sit  in  the  bar-room,  out  of  observation." 

"  Agreed ;  though  there  's  my  room,  but  that 's  too 
near." 

"  Too  near  what  ?" 

"  Why,  my  room  is  too  near.  It  is  next  door  to 
it." 

"  It  appears  that  you  have  learned  some  care,  then," 
laughed  Talbot. 

14* 


322  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  "Well,  I  calculate  I  am  learning  to  take  care  of 
them,"  lie  added,  smiling  facetiously,  and  grinning 
with  a  knowing  leer. 

"  I  presume  they  are  well,  and  resigned." 

et  Oh,  yes,  they  are  hearty ;  but  about  as  resigned  as 
a  perch  in  a  bundle  of  dry  moss." 

"  That  is  bad ;  but  they  might  as  well  be  recon 
ciled,  for  they  are  my  slaves." 

"  Yes,"  said  Stamps,  in  a  delighted  manner ;  "  and 
all  I  want,  Tolly,  is  for  you  to  fulfill  your  promise  to 
me  ;  then  I  am  your  friend  till  £  old  Bones'  comes." 

"  You  may  depend  on  me,  Billy,"  he  replied,  biting 
his  lip ;  "  but  what  if  I  make  you  a  proposition. 
What  will  you  take  to  let  me  off?  how  many  silver 
dollars?" 

Stamps  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  a  smile  of 
scorn  almost  was  perceptible  as  he  replied,  "  Not  the 
wealth  that  you  own  would  make  me  give  up ;  but 
there  is  one  thing  I  would  do." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Talbot,  eagerly. 

"Agree  to  free  the  girls;  swear  to  never,  in  any 
manner,  molest  them ;  make  a  provision  for  them,  and 
I  swear  never  to  say  another  word  on  the  subject." 

Talbot  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  to  see  if  he  was 
in  earnest,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  Hem !  why,  Billy  I 
hem !  ah — I  don't  know  about  that,  you  see." 

"  'You  seel'  yes,  I  see,"  returned  Stamps,  angrily. 
"  I  see  that  you  are  unwilling  to  do  justice  to  these 
girls,  and  you  wish  to  deceive  me !" 

"  Not  at  all,  Billy ;  you  mistake  me." 

"  Well,  then,  if  I  am  mistaken,  I  will  make  a  prop 
osition  to  you,  and  if  you  hold  to  it,  all  will  be  well, 
and  we  are  friends." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  823 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,  you  brought  these  girls  over 
here  to  subdue  them  to  your  wishes ;  and  as  they  are 
situated,  ruin  may  be  their  fate.  If  it  could  be  other 
wise,  it  were, better;  but  now  I  make  this  bargain 
with  you :  Give  me  Zoe  ;  you  take  Estelle ;  they  are 
equally  handsome,  but  I  have  my  preference.  9  It  may 
be  we  shall  both  be  foiled ;  for  it  is  said  that  women 
have  a  way  of  their  own ;  but,  if  it  is  a  bargain,  say 
so,  and  we  will  assist  each  other." 

"  Then,"  said  Talbot,  "  I  am  with  you  in  heart  and 
soul.  You  for  Zoe,  I  for  Estelle.  •  Hurra  for  the  Holy 
Alliance!" 

"  Then  here  is  my  hand,  and  we  will  help  each 
other.  Now  for  another  drink,  and  we  will  consider 
the  affair  closed." 

Talbot  now  found  that  he  had  a  spirit  to  deal  with 
not  so  subservient  as  he  had  imagined,  and  saw  he 
would  be  forced  to  yield,  so  he  thought  it  best  to  do 
so  with  a  good  grace ;  but  his  heart  was  bitter  toward 
Stamps  for  it.  He  knew,  however,  that  he  could 
depend  on  the  veracity  of  his  friend,  he  would  not 
deceive  him ;  and  he  accordingly  determined  to  sacri 
fice  his  feelings  to  his  interests. 

"Come,  Billy,  let 's  walk  out,  and,  as  we  go,  we  can 
talk." 

The  two  now  strolled  forth,  and,  as  they  went  side 
by  side,  their  dreadful  project  was  arranged. 

"Now,  Billy,"  said  Talbot,  "we  must  move  cau 
tiously  in  this  matter,  and  we  can  succeed.  Sly  and 
sure  is  my  motto." 

"  No,  sirree  I"  said  Stamps,  decidedly.  "  Don't  you 
see,  if  you  are  going  to  treat  them  as  slaves,  the  way 


324  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

to  do  it  is  to  break  down  their  spirits  at  once,  and  then 
they  won't  care  what  becomes  of  themselves  ?" 

"Yes;  suppose  they  resist?"  replied  Talbot,  who 
saw,  however,  that  there  was  philosophy  in  his  argu 
ment. 

"  But  they  must  yield." 

"  All  this  is  very  well,  but  I  must  first  see  them." 

"  That  you  shall  soon  do.  Oh  I  Tolly,  but  they  are 
lovely  ;  remember,  I  own  Zoe." 

"  Yery  well.     When  shall  we  see  them  ?" 

"  We  had  better  wait  until  it  is  later." 

"  They  shall  obey  me ;  they  are  my  property,  and 
they  shall  be  bent  to  my  wishes." 

"  That 's  the  way,  Tolly.  Use  boldness,  and  we  will 
succeed." 

It  was  night  in  the  Crescent  City.  There  were  the 
busy  crowd  in  the  street,  the  hurried  chase  of  the 
giddy  after  pleasure  in  the  .ball-room,  the  merry  round 
of  revelers  in  the  saloon,  and  the  shout  of  bacchanals 
from  the  bar-rooms.  There  was  dissipation  in  the 
lamp-lit  streets,  vice  in  the  jeweled  crowd,  and  treach 
ery  on  the  hearth-stone.  There  was  sneaking  murder 
in  the  darkened  courts ;  virtue  and  happiness  in  the 
domestic  circle. 

Talbot  had  given  himself  up  to  the  hands  of  the 
barber,  and  came  forth  from  his  room  highly  per 
fumed  ;  but  all  the  barber's  art,  and  all  the  patchwork  put 
on  him,  could  not  hide  that  black  heart,  full  of  wicked 
designs,  as  he  presented  himself,  smirking,  before 
Stamps.  He  arose,  and  after  a  whispered  and  hurried 
conversation,  silently  preceded  by  Talbot,  they  wended 
their  way  to  the  room  occupied  by  Zoe  and  Estelle. 
Here  Stamps  took  the  lead. 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  325 

When  the  door  was  opened,  they  discovered  the 
sisters  seated  at  a  table,  conversing  in  a  low  tone. 

Stamps  assumed  a  free  easy  tone  and  manner  as  he 
advanced.  He  presented  Talbot  io  them  as  their 
relative.  A  sudden  agitation  seemed  to  take  posses 
sion  of  them,  as  they  confusedly  arose  and  returned 
the  affected  salutations. 

Talbot,  who  had  counted  on  the  swarthy  com 
plexion  of  the  girls  to  give  a  colol-  to  his  designs,  was 
sensibly  struck  and  astonished  at  their  clear  and  bril 
liant  color — of  Estelle  in  particular,  and  he  felicitated 
himself  on  his  election  of  her  instead  of  Zoe. 

He  was  as  much  embarrassed  as  they,  and  hardly 
knew  what  to  say,  as  they  regarded  him  with  anxious 
countenances. 

"I  am  glad  to  welcome  you.  back  to  your  native 
soil  once  more,"  he  exclaimed,  holding  out  his  hand. 

11  We  have  arrived  in  obedience  to  your  summons, 
Mr.  Talbot,"  said  Zoe ;  "  and  we  place  ourselves  under 
your  protection." 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  make 
you  comfortable  ;  but  you  must  be  aware  that  there  is 
a  change  in  our  conditions  since  we  parted." 

"  We  have  nothing  of  our  own,"  said  she;  "  since 
we  are  informed  by  Mr.  Stamps  that  you  are  the  heir  of 
our  father;  and  you  then  will  not  attempt  to  restrict  us." 

"You  are  vastly  mistaken,  Zoe.  You  are  both 
entirely  subject  to  my  disposal — mine  by  the  right  of 
the  law.  It  now  remains  to  be  seen  if  you  will  require 
harsh  treatment,  or  will  receive  kindness." 

"  Merciful  Heaven !  and  are  we  to  be  tortured  still 
further?"  asked  she;  "without  friends — without 
home.  We  are  poor,  destitute,  and  wretched." 


826  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

"Not  so— not  so,"  replied  Talbot;  " it  is  true  that 
your  father  left  his  affairs  in  such  a  situation  that 
nothing  but  superior  management  saved  the  property 
from  utter  ruin ;  still  I  am  willing  to  share  it  with  you, 
on  one  condition." 

"  Name  it,  sir,"  she  answered,  as  the  rich  blood 
mounted  to  her  forehead. 

"  To  offer  no  objections  to  my  suit,  if  not  sanctioned 
by  the  formalities  of  a  long  and  tedious  courtship ;  ay, 
and  to  be  mine  without — in  plain  words — without  the 
aid  of  a  priest." 

"  "With  or  without  one,  never,  sir,"  she  exclaimed, 
as  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  No !  don't  sir,"  said  Stamps,  rising.  "  You  prom 
ised  me  you  would  not  play  this  game — she  's  mine." 

"  Oh !  you  are  a  fool,  Billy.  Of  course  it 's  all  in  a 
general  way.  I  don't  want  her  in  particular." 

"  Well,  see  that  you  don't.    Go  talk  to  Estelle." 

Talbot  bit  his  lips — frowned — then  smiled — and 
turned  off  toward  the  window,  whistling  and  gazing 
into  the  lighted  streets.  He,  as  well  as  Stamps,  was 
in  a  fury  at  the  obstinacy,  as  they  termed  it,  of  the 
girls.  Talbot  approached  Estelle. 

"What  now,  my  pretty  one,"  he  said,  as  he  sat 
down  by  her  side  on  the  sofa,  and  attempted  to  take 
her  hand,  -which  she  withdrew ;  "  you  are  mad  with 
me." 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not." 

"No!  then  what  is  it?" 
'  "  Because,  sir,  you  are  too  contemptible  for  anger." 

"  Ah,  ha !  my  scornful  beauty,"  he  replied,  piqued 
at  her  scorn ;  "I  will  learn  you  to  love  me.  You 
have  been  allotted  to  me." 


THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS.  327 

"  You  will  not  obtain  me,  then." 

"You  think  so?" 

"I  am  certain  of  it." 

"You  are  a  knowing  little  witch,"  he  said,  in  a 
tender  manner,  for  he  was  now  really  affected  by  her 
piquant  beauty ;  and  he  drew  her  suddenly  to  him, 
imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  cheek. 

She  drew  away  in  disgust  and  anger. 

"Base,  unmannered  hound,"  she  said;  "you  are  a 
villain." 

"Oh I  you  are  mistaken,"  he  answered;  "a  mere 
term,  however;"  and  here  he  again  threw  his  arms 
around  her.  She  again  drew  back,  with  some  dif 
ficulty,  enraged,  and  as  he  again  attempted  the  same 
feat,  she  struck  him  with  all  her  strength  in  the  face. 
Stung  by  rage,  he  forgot  himself,  and  the  base-born 
scoundrel  returned  the  bloiv. 

"  That  was  a  most  cowardly  act  1"  said  Stamps, 
turning  round  and  looking  him  full  in  the  face. 

"  You  infernal  little  minx,"  exclaimed  Talbot,  "  that 
act  settles  your  fate.  You  shall  either  submit,  or  I  '11 
put  you  up  at  auction  and  sell  you  to  the  highest  bidder 
— for  you  are  my  slaves — and  the  law  will  protect  me 
in  my  property.  Come,  Billy,  let  us  go,  and  give  the 
jades  a  little  time  for  reflection.  Now,  hear  me,"  he 
added,  turning  round  as  he  reached  the  door;  "you 
shall  for  a  few  days  have  no  molestation ;  and  I  swear, 
if  you  do  not  yield  at  the  end  of  that  time,  I  will  use 
the  power  I  possess  to  compel  you ;  but  you  will  bit 
terly  rue  it,  I  assure  you.  Think,"  he  said,  tauntingly, 
"  how  you  would  feel  to  be  placed  on  the  block,  by  the 
side  of  a  lot  of  fat  negroes,  and  have  your  beauties 
exposed  to  the  gaze  of  a  thousand  libertines." 


328  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

.  "  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  go,  fiend !  and  leave  us  a 
few  hours  alone.  Go !  and  may  the  curse  of  the  Pro 
tector  of  the  fatherless  cling  to  you  1" 

He  retired  from  the  door ;  and  as  he  went,  he  uttered 
a  low,  chuckling,  bitter  laugh ;  and  the  poor  girls,  as 
they  heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock,  fell  into  each 
other's  arms  and  wept. 

The  next  day,  during  the  morning,  Talbot  'entered 
their  room  again. 

"  Well,  girls,"  he  said,  in  a  hypocritical  voice,  "  I 
hope  you  have  thought  well  of  this  matter  ;  for  I  do 
not  intend  to  trifle  with  you,  I  assure  you." 

"  All  we  want,"  said  Zoe,  tl  is,  if  we  are  slaves,  to 
be  allowed  to  earn  our  bread;  but,  sir,  what  right 
have  you  to  us?  How  are  we  slaves?  Or  is  this 
only  a  fable  of  yours  ?" 

"  A  fable  I  Well,  it  will  prove  a  sad  reality  to  you. 
Listen !  Your  mother  was  a  slave — a  Quadroon  slave 
— in  the  West  Indies ;  she  was  sold,  and  Colonel  Or- 
mond,  attracted  by  her  beauty,  purchased  her.  They 
lived  together  as  man  and  wife,  unmarried.  The  law 
not  allowing  illegitimate  children  to  inherit,  I  was  the 
heir,  and  your  father  never  having  freed  your  mother, 
both  you  and  she  were  slaves.  You  are  my  property, 
as  you  were  his.  Now  do  you  understand  ?" 

A  deadly  pallor  overspread  the  cheek  of  the  beau 
tiful  girl,  as  she  followed  him  through  to  what  was  to 
her  a  blasting  death- stroke  to  her  hopes. 

"  And  is  this  true?"  she  murmured,  sadly. 

"  If  there  is  any  doubt  of  it — if  you  do  doubt  it 
at  all,  I  can  bring  a  lawyer  who  will  soon  satisfy 
you." 

"  Then  are  we  lost  indeed.     Can  this  be  so?     Is  it 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  829 

true  ?  I  am  surely  dreaming ;  but  no,  it  is  a  frightful 
reality.  I  remember  to  have  heard  something  like 
this,  years  ago,  from  my  father's  negroes ;  but  oh  !  I 
never  dreamed  it  true ;  I  was  a  little  child  then.  Oh, 
father,  father!  how  terrific  a  curse  you  have  be 
queathed  to  your  children !" 

"  It  is  not  justice,"  said  Estelle. 

"  Ah,  my  charmer!  it  may  not  be  justice,  but  it  is* 
law." 

"  Is  there  no  help  on  earth  for  it  ?"  asked  Zoe,  with 
horror  and  consternation  in  her  countenance.  "  Oh ! 
why  did  our  Creator  allow  us  this  suffering?  "Why 
did  we  leave  the  peaceful  scenes  of  our  convent  life  in 
Paris  ?  Oh  !  it  is  more  awful  than  I  could  ever  dream 
of.  A  slave !  It  is  frightful  1"  And  here  she  pressed 
her  hands  tightly  over  her  eyes,  as  if  it  were  to  shut 
out  a  horrible  sight.  She  trembled  violently,  and 
seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  going  into  hysterical 
convulsions. 

"  Come,  Zoe,"  he  said,  "  do  not  despair.  I  will 
make  it  as  light  as  possible." 

"  Despair !  it  is  worse  than  despair ;  it  is  worse  than 
death.  Slaves!  Oh!  the  idea  is  awful.  I  shall  go 
crazy.  Come,  sister,"  she  exclaimed,  "  we  are  slaves  ! 
Come,  let  us  go  out  to .  our  labor,  let  us  bend  our 
knees  to  our  master.  Oh  !  was  it  for  this  that  we 
were  sent  to  school,  refined,  and  educated — mingling 
with  the  nobility  of  France — the  pets  of  the  kind 
ladies — to  be  ultimatelv  dragged  into  the  slave  mar 
ket!" 

"  Come,  Zoe,"  exclaimed  he,  again,  "  resign  your 
selves  into  my  hands,  and  I  will  act  like  a  man." 

"  Ah  1"  said  Estelle,  "  if  you  were  to  act  like  a  man, 


330  THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS. 

you  would  let  us  go  unharmed.  You  have  all  our 
father's  property.  Shame  on  the  manhood  of  him 
that  would  claim  his  children  as  slaves !" 

"  Would  it  add  to  your  honor/'  said  Zoe,  "  or  your 
happiness,  to  bruit  it  abroad  that  you  had  conquered 
two  weak  and  defenseless  girls  ?  Ah !  if  no  touch  of 
pity  moves  your  breast,  let  us  buy  our  freedom.  I 
can  give -music  lessons,  and  Estelle  can  sew  and. paint; 
and  when  the  last  dollar  is  paid,  we  will  fall  on  our 
knees  and  bless  you." 

"  There  is  only  one  method,"  he  replied,  coldly.  "I 
have  mentioned  the  way,  and  the  time  is  almost  out ;" 
and  here  he  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  One  question,"  said  Estelle. 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Are  you  a  human  being,  or  only  a  beast  clothed 
in  a  human  form  ?" 

«  Talbot  turned  again  without  replying ;  he  was  al 
most  frantic,  and  he  now  determined  more  than  ever 
to  conquer  them.  He  paced  the  hall  backward  and 
forward  for  an  hour,  to  cool  his  fevered  brow,  and 
curb  his  impetuous  temper.  Suddenly  he  turned,  and 
again  entered  the  room. 

"  Girls,"  exclaimed  he,  "  this  is  folly.  Why  not 
come  to  an  understanding  at  once  ?  We  need  not  be 
enemies.  Come,  Estelle."  Here  he  whispered  in  her 
ear.  As  quick  as  a  lightning's  flash  she  leaped  from 
her  seat,  and  sprang  back  as  if  she  had  touched  an 
adder.  Her  eyes  flashed  with  anger,  and  her  nostrils 
dilated  with  scorn. 

"  Base  and  cruel  man !  unnatural  monster  I"  she  ex 
claimed.  "  And  would  you,  could  you-^could  any  man 
born  of  woman  ever  stoop  so  low  ?  Could  you  forget 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  331 

that  there  is  a  God  above  us,  and  then  ask  for  such  a 
sacrifice  ?  Can  any  one  calling  himself  a  man  forget 
honor  and  gratitude ?"  She  approached  him.  "Sir," 
she  continued,  as  she  gazed  steadily  in  his  eyes,  before 
whose  pure  fire  his  own  trembled  and  averted  their 
look.  He  seemed  to  see  again  the  form  of  the  injured 
Ormond,  darting  curses  on  him.  "  Can  you  forget 
the  father  of  the  poor  child  whom  you  would  now  at 
tempt  to  wrong  ?  Can  you  remember  the  time  when 
you  came  to  his  house  a  stranger  and  in  want,  and 
then  coolly  and  deliberately  determine  to  crush  the 
child  of  such  a  parent,  to  consign  her  to  infamy  and 
despair?  Do  you  remember  the  pure,  mild  eyes  of 
my  mother  ?  Do  you  remember  any  kindness  shown 
to  you  by  her  ?  Can  you  remember  any  harshness 
from  either,  and  can  you  now,  when  you  remember 
our  once  happy  home,  can  you,  when  the  child  of  my 
parents  stands  tremblingly  before  you — a  slave  by  am 
accident,  and  in  your  power — can  you  hesitate  how  to 
act  ?  Oh !  no,  you  can  not — can  not  now  doom  two 
innocent  girls,  who  would  have  met  you  with  so  much 
kindness,  to  misery  and  shame  1  Oh !  no,  I  know 
you  will  not.  Human  nature  is  not  so  degraded. 
You  will  free  us,  and  I  can  even  think  that  the  eyes 
of  my  mother  are  now  cast  to  the  throne  of  God,  and 
that  her  harpstrings  send  up  a  blessing  for  you." 

Talbot,  as  bad  as  he  was,  actually  felt  this  pathetic 
appeal,  and  almost  half  relented. 

A  tap  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  Stamps  peered  in. 
He  entered,  and  advanced  to  the  side  of  Zoe. 

"Well,  Tolly,  what  success?"  he  asked. 

"None  at  all." 

"  Well,  I  am  thinking  it  is  time  to  do  something ; 


832  THE    CBEOLE    ORPHANS. 

as  for  myself,  I  will  have  my  reward  if  the  gates  of 
destruction  were  opened  wide  upon  me." 

"  Oh !  do  not  surrender  us  to  that  man,"  exclaimed 
Estelle,  "  he  is  a  villain."  This  was  said  to  Talbot. 

"Alas!  poor  sister/'  replied  Zoe,  "you  lean  on  a 
broken  reed,  for  he  is  as  bad  as  the  other." 

"  The  alternative  is  before  you,"  said  Talbot ;  "we 
only  intend  kindness." 

"  Kindness !  yes,  such  kindness  as  the  hyena  shows 
to  the  trembling  fawn  when  he  is  about  to  tear  it  in 
pieces." 

"Well,  then,  decide,"  he  said,  petulantly ;  "agree 
to  our  proposal,  or  the  auction  block." 

"Is  there  no  hope?" 

"None!" 

""Well,  leave  us,"  replied  Zoe,  in  tears,  "leave  us, 
and  we  will  think  and  weep  over  this  concentration 
of  horrors." 

It  was  in  their  own  room,  that  night,  that  Talbot 
and  Stamps  felicitated  themselves  on  the  victory 
which  they  conceived  they  had  gained.  Talbot  had  a 
new  feeling  awakened  in  him;  he  had  heretofore 
thought  or  cared  for  nothing  but  money.  The  cur 
rent  was  now  turned,  and  he  was  launched  on  the-  sea 
of  sin ;  every  thought  and  every  feeling  else  was  swal 
lowed  up  in  this  all-absorbing  theme. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"The  sun 

Declined,  was  hasting  now  with  prone  career 
To  th'  ocean  isles,  and  in  the  ascending  scale 
Of  heaven,  the  stars  that  usher  evening  rose." 

MILTON. 

WEEK  Mr.  Herndon  left  home,  be  had  not  fully 
^ '  decided  in  what  manner  to  act ;  but  his  first  course 
was  to  see  Mr.  Bland,  with  whom  Ormond  had  the 
conversation,  and  who  had  decided  him,  as  has  been 
before  detailed.  Here  he  received  information  enough 
to  warrant  him  in  pursuing  his  course.  He  learned 
from  him  the  fact  with  surprise  that  Ormond  had 
legally  acknowledged  the  children,  and  legitimated 
them.  He  remained  in  the  city  several  weeks  institut 
ing  inquiries,  and  at  length  found  the  vessel  in  which 
the  voyage  was  made  to  Porto  Eico.  The  captain 
confirmed  him  in  his  suspicions,  and  offered  him  every 
assistance  in  his  power. 

He  therefore  set  sail  with  him,  and  at  the  time  he 
was  leaving  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  river,  Zoe 
and  Estelle,  under  convoy  of  Stamps,  entered  it.  We 
will  not  follow  him  in  bis  inquiries,  but  state  that  he 
found  a  vessel  sailing  for  Martinique,  in  Havana. 

He  reached  that  island,  and  there  learned  to  his  in 
expressible  delight  that  Ormond  had  fully  performed 
his  promise — that  the  wife  of  his  friend  was  free,  and 


334  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

the  children  legitimated,  and  that  no  stain  of  Quad 
roon  blood  tainted  them.  Oh !  how  his  heart  bounded, 
and  his  soul  was  lifted  up  in  gratitude  to  that  myste 
rious  Providence  which  had  directed  him  aright  in  his 
course;  and  how,  lava-like,  his  blood  boiled  in  his 
veins  when  he  thought  of  the  usurper  Talbot,  and  of 
the  poor  children  whom  he  was  now  to  see  righted. 
With  what  joy  he  grasped  the  documents,  copies  of 
the  records ;  and  how  gayly  he  stepped  to  the  hotel  to 
hide  the  precious  papers  in  his  portfolio. 

It  was  the  evening  before  the  vessel  sailed  on  its 
return  that  Herndon  was  stepping  on  board  with  his 
luggage.  A  large  American  vessel  was  just  coming 
into  the  harbor,  and  he  gazed  proudly  at  the  starry 
flag,  as  it  waved  in  massive  folds  on  the  evening  air. 
The  anchor  was  dropped,  and  in  a  few  moments  a  boat 
was  seen  to  pull  from  the  sides,  and  approach  the 
shore.  In  the  stern-sheets  sat  two  figures  which  at 
tracted  his  attention.  He  kept  his  look  fastened  on 
the  approaching  boat.  It  appeared  that  the  figures 
were  not  unfamiliar  to  his  eye.  He  looked  more 
steadily,  and  as  the  boat  drew  nearer,  he  could  have 
almost  shouted  with  agitation.  There  were  two  known 
faces.  One  was  Grant — but  that  was  impossible. 
Still,  there  he  was,  now  more  distinct.  Herndon  shut 
his  eyes — it  was  an  illusion.  He  feared  to  open  them. 
The  boat  passed  around  the  bow.  He  could  not  pre 
vent  it — his  tongue  involuntarily  shouted — 

"  Doctor!" 

The  person  looked  up  steadily  for  a  moment,  then 
hastily  said,  "  Hold  on !  stop  pulling !" 

"Are  you  Dr.  Grant?"  asked  Herndon,  in  a  trem 
bling  voice. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  335 

"  Herndon !  by  the  God  of  war !"  shouted  the  doc 
tor,  for  it  was  he.  In  a  moment  he  was  on  board ; 
and  the  two  long  separated  friends  pressed  each  other 
in  a  close  and  hearty  embrace.  Smiles  and  tears  were 
mingled.  Smiles  of  happiness,  and  tears  of  sorrow  as 
old  reminiscences  were  disentombed  from  the  grave 
of  feeling.  Louis  Lamotte  was  the  other  stranger,  and 
he  shared  in  the  common  joy. 

A  few  moments  sufficed  to  explain  their  relative 
positions;  and  a  few  moments  more  to  transfer  the 
baggage  to  the  vessel  to  sail  in  the  morning.  Hern 
don  had  completed  the  business,  and  there  was  now  no 
necessity  for  remaining  longer.  They  sailed,  and  mutual 
explanations  occupied  them  for  a  number  of  days. 

For  several  days  Talbot  refrained  from  visiting  the 
persecuted  orphans,  save  at  meal  times  ;  for  he  found 
all  his  efforts  to  subdue  them  unavailing.  They  re 
sisted  every  art.;  and  at  the  end  of  the  time  he  was 
fain  to  confess  himself  vanquished.  He  took  imme 
diate  steps  to  transfer  them  from  the  hotel,  but  had 
not  decided  whether  to  take  them  to  the  plantation,  or 
to  a  furnished  room  in  the  lower  portion  of  the  city. 

The  rain  poured  in  torrents — the  streets  were 
deluged  with  water — and  almost  impassable.  Dark 
and  lowering  clouds  hung  heavily  over  the  city. 
None  were  out  on  such  a  night,  save  the  lurking 
thief — the  outcast — and  the  wanderer.  Even  the 
drowsy  watchmen  had  stowed  themselves  away  in 
warm  corners,  snugly  to  sleep  off  the  storm,  and  leave 
the  good  city  to  take  care  of  itself. 

Talbot  and  Stamps  were  treading  the  dark  streets 
toward  the  hotel.  They  had  been  in  the  lower  por- 


336  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

tion  of  the  city  to  look  at  an  old  mansion  which,  was 
for  rent.  Along  the  dismal  and  rank-smelling  streets 
they  trod.  The  current  of  poverty  and  wretched 
ness  was  flowing  at  this  dark  hour.  There  was  the 
drunken  sailor,  reeling  along  with  his  last  wages  spent 
in  grog ;  and  the  low  debauchee,  making  night  odious 
with  his  songs ;  and  there  were  the  women  of  the 
street,  with  their  scanty  and  flimsy  dresses,  their  glar 
ing  red  cheeks,  and  blood-shot  eyes — the  grog-shop 
pets.  Children  too,  of  tender  age — children  of  crime 
and  of  wretchedness,  with  cunning  imprinted  in  old 
lines  on  their  young  faces,  were  there,  with  their 
hardened  little  countenances ;  and  there  was  the  sound 
of  the  pot-house  dance,  the  violence,  the  laugh,  the  un 
chaste  tongue,  and  the  oath. 

The  two  friends  passed  on  hastily,  with  downcast 
heads,  avoiding  the  driving  rain,  and  shrinking  at 
each  successive  peal  of  thunder,  which  now  shook  the 
city  to  its  trembling  center. 

Before  them  moves  slowly  a  female  form.  At  their 
approach,  she  stops  and  looks  around.  She  was  a  tall 
commanding  figure,  and  by  the  lightning's  glare  they 
could  see  that  her  hair  was  disheveled,  and  a  stream 
of  water  was  running  down  herfece.  She  was  bare 
headed  ;  and  her  dress,  which  had  once  been  of  some 
thin  material,  was  now  draggled,  wet,  and  muddy. 
She  had  evidently  once  been  handsome. 

"  Who  are  you?"  she  asked ;  "  and  what  want  you 
with  a  forlorn  vagrant." 

"  Who  are  you?"  replied  Talbot,  in  return. 

"  I  am  what  crime  makes  women,"  she  replied ;  and 
her  voice  was  low,  tremulous,  and  not  unmusical. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 


THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS.  337 

"I  have  none.  It  was  buried  many  years  since, 
with  my  honor." 

Talbot  turned  to  his  companion,  and  whispered, 
"  We  may  make  something  of  this ;"  then  turning, 
exclaimed,  "  my  good  woman,  you  appear  distressed, 
and  cold,  and  wet.  Would  you  like  a  good  situation, 
to  make  yourself  an  honest  woman  again." 

She  gazed  at  him ;  and  it  appeared  that  she  did 
not  comprehend  the  question  ;  for  it  had  to  be  repeated 
ere  she  replied, 

"  I  have  been  the  sport  of  fortune  too  long  now  to 
be  duped  by  you.  Leave  me  alone,  and  go  your 
way." 

"  But  you  do  not  comprehend  me.  Will  you,  if  I 
clothe  and  feed  you — will  you  serve  me  ?" 

"Food!"  she  cried,  wildly;  "food!  oh!  I  will  do 
any  thing  for  food." 

"  Well,  follow  me." 

"Are  you  crazy?"  said  Stamps;  "what  do  you 
want  with  this  night  hag  ?" 

"Billy,  I  have  a  head  which  has  brought  me 
through  many  an  intricate  plot ;  see  now  if  I  don't 
turn  this  fo  advantage." 

"How?" 

"  Come  on,  come  on  ;  walk  faster." 

The  poor  creature  mechanically  obeyed  the  voice 
of  her  conductor,  and  painfully  followed  them.  As 
they  passed  a  small  grocery,  at  the  window  of  which 
was  still  a  light,  he  paused  and  there  procured  a  por 
tion  of  food  for  the  miserable  being.  She  devoured 
with  the  eagerness  which  famine  can  only  give  the 
bread  and  other  articles  furnished;  and  then,  when 
she  had  finished,  gazed  wistfully  around. 

15 


338  .THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

"Let  her  have  it,"  said  Talbot,  who  stood,  by  and 
had  been  looking  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"What?"  said  the  shopman. 

"  Give  her  liquor ;  do  you  not  see  what  she  needs." 
The  shopman  smiled  at  the  penetration  of  Talbot,  and 
poured  out  for  her  a  half  tumbler  full  of  raw  brandy. 
She  swallowed  it  without  any  hesitation,  uttered  a 
deep  sigh  of  pleasure,  then  arose  and  looked  up  at 
Talbot.  "Have  you  finished?"  he  asked.  A  nod  of 
assent  was  given,  he  threw  down  a  piece  of  money  on 
the  counter  and  turned  away.  The  storm  continued, 
and  they  again  plunged  into  the  darkness. 

Some  time  elapsed  and  they  reached  the  hotel.  It 
was  late,  and  the  private  entrance  for  ladies  was 
closed.  A  ruse  was  planned.  Stamps  went  up  to 
their  room  and  brought  down  his  cloak;  this  was 
thrown  over  the  shoulders  of  the  exhausted  woman, 
and  thus  under  cover  concealing  the  wet  and  soiled 
dress,  she  was  introduced  into  the  hotel  and  into 
Stanips's  room. 

Caution  was  given  to  her  not  to  speak ;  a  few  bed 
clothes  made  into  a  pallet  on  the  floor,  and  the  wretch 
was  soon  sleeping  soundly. 

"  "Well,  now  for  your  explanation,"  said  Stamps,  the 
next  morning,  as  they  descended  the  steps  to  the  bar 
room  for  their  bitters. 

"  Listen,  then ; — this  is  a  woman  who  is  perfectly 
dependent  on  us ;  she  is  a  beggar,  and  we  can  use  her 
in  every  sense ;  she  will  be  a  watchguard  on  the  girls ; 
no  one  can  approach  them ;  and  when  we  leave  the 
house,  we  will  leave  a  good  deputy.  We  can  attach 
her  to  our  interests,  and  she  can  work  on  their  feelings 
as  a  woman  only  knows  how.  We  can  mold  them,  to 


THE    CREOLE    OKPHANS.  339 

our  wishes  through  her,  and  prevent  them  from  hold 
ing  communication  with  any  one.  Do  you  now  see 
the  cream  of  the  idea?" 

"  I  do ;  and  I  acknowledge  ifc  will  be  a  most  excel* 
lent  thing ;  for,  as  you  say,  by  introducing  her  as  their 
attendant  we  will  have  another  fast  friend,  and  a  spy 
in  the  camp." 

After  breakfast,  Talbot  went  out  and  purchased 
clothing  for  their  acquisition,  so  as  to  introduce  her 
suitably  to  Zoe  and  Estelle.  The  articles  were  brought 
in,  and  as  he  left  the  room  he  exclaimed — 

"  Come,  rig  yourself  out,  now,  and  when  you  have 
finished  I  wish  to  talk  with  you ;  I  am  going  to  pre 
sent  you  to  some  ladies  this  morning,  who  need  an  at 
tendant." 

In  an  hour  he  returned,  and  found  her  attired  in  a 
decent  manner.  A  remarkable  change  had  occurred 
in  her ;  she,  instead  of  resembling  what  she  had  been, 
now  seemed  a  decent  serving- woman. 

"•  What  is  your  name  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  threw  him 
self  in  a  chair.  The  woman  studied  a  moment  and 
then  replied, 

"  You  can  call  me  Catherine,  sir." 

"Catherine  what?" 

"  Catherine  Nothing." 

"Very  well,  Mrs.  Catherine  Nothing,  wife  of  a  bank 
rupt  tradesman,  forced  to  seek  a  place,  now  you  are 
aware  that  I  know  what  you  are  ?" 

"It  is  probable." 

."Very  good  again;  Lwant  you  to  attend  on  two 
young  ladies ;  they  are  my  favorites,  and  I  want  them 
well  watched.  Can  you  do  it  ?" 

"I  can  do  any  thing  to  keep  out  of  the  street." 


340  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"That  is  good;  here  is  plenty  of  gold ;"  and  he 
drew  out  his  purse,  through  the  green  silk  net- work 
of  which  the  metal  shone.  "Only  be  faithful,  and 
whatever  you  want  you  shall  have." 

"I  will  be  faithful." 

"Now  I  will  tell  you — these  girls  are  in  my  power, 
and  they  are  perverse ;  they  yield  to  me  when  death 
comes,  not  before.  I  want  their  feelings  wrought  upon, 
and  wish  them  bent  to  my  wishes ;  they  are  mine ;  more 
I  will  tell  you  another  time.  Can  you  undertake  it  ?" 

"  I  can,  and  will  promise  obedience.  I  was  ruined ; 
why  should  I  not  lend  my  aid  to  ruin  others.  I  will 
and  can  assist  you." 

"You  will  obey  me,  then,  in  all  things?" 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  Then  say  what  you  wish,  and  if  you  keep  your 
promise  faithfully,  you  shall  never  want;  I  under 
stand  that  you  are  mine  to  obey  ?" 

"lam." 

"  I  wish  to  subdue  these  girls ;  more  you  will  learn 
anon;  do  you  comprehend  me?" 

"I  were  an  idiot  did  I  not." 

"  Then  follow  me."  He  led  the  way,  and  she  fol 
lowed.  At  the  door  he  paused  and  turned  ;  a  look  of 
authority  directed  to  her  and  a  motion  to  come  nearer 
was  given. 

"  Eemember,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Never  fear,"  she  answered,  as  a  look  of  peculiar 
intelligence  shot  from  her  dull  eyes. 

"  Zoe,  I  have  brought  you  and  Estelle  an  attendant ; 
she  is  faithful ;  treat  her  kindly." 

""We  feel  obliged  to  you,"  she  replied,  "but  could 
have  done  without  this  mark  of  your  attention." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  341 

He  turned  and  looked  at  the  woman.  He  noticed  a 
deep  forbidding  expression  pass  over  her  features ;  he 
was  satisfied  ;  he  knew  that  Zoe  had  made  an  enemy. 
He  saw  the  angry  spot  pass  over  her  cheek,  the  eye 
kindle,  and  he  knew  that  she  was  faithful. 

The  day  arrived  again,  and  a  carriage  was  drawn 
up  at  the  private  entrance  of  the  hotel,  as  Talbot  es 
corted  the  two  girls  and  their  servant  down  to  the 
vehicle,  and  entered  it  with  them.  Their  state-rooms 
had  been  secured  by  Stamps  on  the  steamer,  and  to  it 
they  were  driven.  The  servant  was  faithful ;  she  was 
just  the  being  Talbot  wanted ;  deep  and  impassable, 
unprincipled,  and  unfeeling.  She  who  had  been  de 
ceived  now  gloried  in  leading  on  to  ruin  an  innocent 
girl.  It  was  an  especial  pleasure  for  her  to  sit  and 
gaze  on  them,  to  see  their  smooth  cheeks  and  elegant 
forms,  and  to  calculate  how  much  suffering  and  time 
it  would  require  to  dim  the  brightness  of  those  orbs, 
to  hollow  those  cheeks,  and  place  the  seal  of  despair 
on  those  brows.  She  gloried  in  such  work,  and  Tal 
bot  could  not  have  found  a  more  fitting  agent.  She 
duly  reported  all  that  was  said  and  done  by  them,  and 
a  sigh  could  not  have  been  drawn,  a  murmur  whispered, 
or  a  pearly  tear  be  shed,  but  it  was  regularly  chron 
icled  to  head-quarters.  She  tried  to  conciliate  them 
at  first,  but  met  with  a  cold  repulse,  and  therefore  tried 
no  more.  They  did  not  treat  her  unkindly,  but  were 
not  free  in  their  intercourse  with  her,  and  at  the  same 
time  expressed  to  her  their  feelings  in  regard  to  their 
situation. 

They  approached  what  had  once  been  their  home. 
The  oak-trees  waved  their  branches  still,  but  mourn 
fully;  and  the  flowers  bloomed,  but  from  amid  the 


342  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

rank  grass.  There  was  a  welcome,  but  a  sad  one. 
No  one  knew  them  when  they  walked  up  the  avenue 
to  their  father's  dwelling;  the  servants  who  had 
nursed  them  in  childhood  knew  them  no  more.  They 
were  kept  in  strict  seclusion ;  even  old  Sylvia  was  not 
allowed  to  see  them,  and  no  servant  knew  that  their 
master's  children  were  in  the  house,  prisoners,  and 
under  a  cruel  tyrant.  None  had  access  to  them  but 
through  Catherine,  who  attended  to  them  and  their 
room. 

Another  attack  was  made  upon  them  now,  but 
without  success.  Talbot  even  offered  them  their  free 
dom,  but  they  had  rather  be  bond-slaves  and  live  with 
honor,  than  be  free  without  it,  and  his  suit  and  offer 
were  rejected  with  disdain. 

Talbot  had  thought  well  of  what  he  was  about  to 
do ;  he  had  built  up  an  edifice  of  villainy,  and  was 
now  about  to  put  on  the  crowning  stone.  He  had 
sworn  a  deep  revenge,  and  vowed  to  sell  the  girls  as 
slaves  at  auction,  and  he  would  not  forego  it.  When 
informed  of  his  final  determination,  they  silently  wept, 
but  spoke  not  a  word,  well  knowing  how  vain  were 
words  of  petition  to  him,  who  seemed  not  to  possess 
the  ordinary  feelings  of  humanity.  Stamps  entirely 
coincided  with  Talbot  in  his  views,  and  agreed  to  go 
up  to  a  parish  town  where  there  were  negro  sales  the 
first  Monday  in  every  month,  to  make  arrangements 
with  the  vendor  to  have  Zoe  and  Estelle  offered  at  the 
same  time. 

Talbot  knew  he  had  a  desperate  game  to  play,  and 
he  would  have  receded  from  the  step,  but  he  was 
aware  that  it  was  death  to  retrograde,  and  his  revenge 
would  be  unaccomplished. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  843 

A  week  elapsed,  and  Stamps  had  returned.  There 
was  to  be  a  large  sale  of  negros,  and  he  had  made 
arrangements  with  the  auctioneer  to  offer  them  for 
sale. 

A  last  offer  was  made  to  them ;  but  they  remained 
firm,  and  preserved  their  virtue. 

The  reader  may  wonder  why  such  an  idea  as  selling 
the  girls  ever  entered  his  head. 

There  are  some  spirits  so  perverse,  some  so  refined 
in  their  cruelty,  that  common  mortals  can  not  conceive 
the  incomings  and  outgoings  of  their  minds ;  and  he 
knew  that  by  their  actually  being  sold  at  a  public  sale 
it  would  forever  bar  the  claim  set  up  by  them  for 
their  father's  property,  and  its  very  boldness  would 
prevent  opposition.  He  would  be  revenged  nobly, 
amply.  At  any  rate,  he  had  been  foiled,  cut  in  his 
most  tender  point,  and  he  determined  to  carry  it  out. 
Accordingly,  Colonel  Ormond's  carriage,  which  had 
never  been  used  since  his  death,  was  drawn  out,  and 
put  in  repair. 

The  day  came ;  it  was  yet  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
and  the  poor  orphans  were  placed  in  the  carriage,  to 
be  carried  to  the  sacrifice.  Talbot  went  with  them, 
and  Stamps  rode  by  their  side ;  thus  they  set  forth. 
Catherine  went  also  ;  even  she  was  touched  with  pity 
at  the  sacrifice,  and  would  have  retracted  if  she  could. 

Talbot  gloried  in  his  power ;  but  there  was  an  eye 
which  watched  these  proceedings,  and  an  arm  ready 
to  avenge  them.  There  were  rescuers  near ;  their 
prayer  was  answered.  Pierre  had  listened  to  the  con 
versation  between  him  and  Stamps  when  they  thought 
no  mortal  ear  heard  them.  He  knew  the  girls,  he 
heard  the  whole  plot,  he  saw  them  set  forth,  and  he 


344  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

patiently  waited  for  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Herndon.  A 
tale  lie  liad  to  tell :  for  many  a  night  had  he  silently 
sneaked  beneath  the  window  or  behind  doors,  and 
had  eagerly  drank  in  all  the  plot. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

"Destruction!  swift  destruction! 
Fall  on  my  coward  head,  and  make  my  name 
The  common  scorn  of  fools,  if  I  forgive  him." 

.  VENICE  PEESKEVED. 

TT7"HEN  the  girls  awoke  in  the  town  in  wKich  they 
had  arrived  the  night  previous,  it  was  morning. 
They  found  their  own  clothes  gone,  and  a  couple  of 
coarse  calico  dresses  substituted  in  their  stead.  Cathe 
rine  coolly  informed  them  that  they  were  the  ones  in 
which  they  were  to  appear.  "When  they  looked  out 
through  the  windows  of  their  sleeping  apartment  on 
the  bright  skies,  heard  the  little  birds  gayly  singing 
among  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  saw  all  nature 
refreshed  and  joyous,  they  turned  sick  at  heart,  and 
Zoe  came  near  fainting.  They  thought  they  had  sum 
moned  courage  enough  to  meet  their  fate,  but  nature 
would  prevail. 

Zoe  looked  on  her  sister  sadly,  and  bitterly  smiled 
as  she  donned  her  garb.  "  These  are  our  robes  of 
slavery,  sister." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Estelle ;  "  but,  sister,  I  feel  lighter 
at  heart  this  morning  than  usual.  It  may  be  that  I 
am  going  mad,  or  it  may  be  faith — I  feel  that  God 
will  not,  at  the  last  moment,  permit  this  sacrifice. 
You  taught  me  the  faith  in  our  God,  sister." 

Zoe  looked  earnestly  at  Estelle ;  she  trembled,  for 
15* 


346  THE    CREOLE    ORPHAN'S. 

she  feared  that  the  sparkle  of  the  eye  was  the  symp 
tom  of  incipient  madness. 

"  You  doubt  my  sanity,  sister ;  but  do  not  fear." 

"  Why  is  this  strange  gayety,  Estelle  ?"  said  she,  as 
she  tenderly  took  her  hand. 

"  Sister,"  she  replied,  earnestly,  "  I  have  had  a 
dream.  I  thought  our  dear  mother  stood  beside  my 
bed,  and  soothed  my  brow,  as  she  was  wont  to  do  in 
other  days,  and  she  smiled  benignly  on  me.  Her  form 
was  bright  as  the  rays  of  heaven's  own  light,  and  as 
she  spoke,  her  voice  resemble'd  the  tones  of  a  lute. 
She  softly  breathed,  1 1  am  with  you,  my  child ;  it  is 
power  given  by  God  to  me  to  be  ever  with  you  in 
spirit.  I  am  always  with  you,  guarding  you  from  dan 
ger.  Be  of  good  cheer :  this  is  a  trial,  but  all  will  go 
well.'  This  said,  she  slowly  faded  away.  I  then 
thought  that  I  sat  in  our  dear  old  garden,  here  at 
home,  listening  to  the  gentle  swell  of  the  summer 
wind,  and  that  there  was  a  sound  of  sweet,  soft  music 
— oh  !  so  sweet  and  pure — and  that  it  was  our  moth 
er's  prayer,  ascending  to  God  for  us." 

The  tears  streamed  from  Zoe's  eyes,  as  she  listened 
to  the  simple  and  pathetic  recital ;  and,  as  she  clasped 
her  in  her  arms,  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh  !  God,  this  is  too 
much,  too  much  1  Oh !  father,  mother,  little  dreamed 
you  of  this!" 

"  Come,  come,  girls !"  sharply  cried  the  woman,  who, 
during  all  this  time,  had  stood  by  without  a  muscle  in 
her  countenance  betraying  a  single  emotion,  "  you 
must  be  getting  ready.  If  you  don't,  I  will  be 
blamed." 

They  silently  obeyed  her,  with  streaming  eyes. 

"  Sister,"  exclaimed  Estelle,  "  I  can  not  help  feeling 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  347 

that  there  is  more  in  my  dream  than  it  seems.  I  feel 
confident  that  this  most  monstrous  villainy  will  not  be 
allowed  to  go  on." 

"  Ah !  dear  Estelle,  do  not  buoy  yourself  up  with 
hopes,  which,  like  bubbles,  will  burst.  Oh !  no,  we 
are  doomed." 

"  All  the  help  you  will  get,"  exclaimed  the  discord 
ant  voice  of  the  woman,  "  will  be  that  some  gay  young 
gentleman,  who  has  got  more  money  than  brains,  will 
buy  you,  defy  laws,  and  make  ladies  of  you.  And 
why  should  they  not?  others  as  good  have  been 
ruined." 

They  turned  pale  at  this  unfeeling  speech;  they 
strongly  compressed  their  lips,  and  then  merely  said, 
"  God  help  us !" 

"  Oh  !  yes,  He  can  if  He  will,  but  He  ain't  a-goin' 
to.  Why  did  n't  He  help  me  fifteen  years  ago,  when 
I  was  young,  and  innocent,  and  pretty  ?  Ay,  pretty  ! 
you  need  not  look  so.  I  was  young  and  pretty  once  ; 
the  roses  bloomed  on  my  cheek,  and  my  young  heart 
was  uncrushed,  and  the  earth  was  bright  and  lovely, 
and  a  song  was  ever  on  my  lips.  But  my  poor  old 
mother  died.  She  is  in  heaven  now,  God  bless  her ; 
and  I  was  deceived.  Then,  when  the  odor  was  taken 
from  the  flower ;  when  the  roses  were  all  withered  up, 
the  thorns  were,  left — the  young  heart  was  blighted. 
Then,  then  I  was  turned  out  into  the  streets  of  Bos 
ton,  to  beg,  or  starve,  or  steal,  or  do  worse.  Ay,  and 
I  did  do  worse,  and — and  I  became  what  I  am,  and 
have  been  ever  since,  and  always  will  be  !  Yes  !  I 
say,  why  should  you  not  be  what  I  am.  You  are 
nothing  but  women.  Why  should  not  the  well-stream 
of  your  affections  be  dried  up,  and  your  young  feel- 


348  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

ings  blighted,  your  hopes  cut  short,  and  the  golden 
fruits  of  the  autumn  of  your  life  be  turned  to  bitter 
ashes?" 

"  Oh  !  hush !  in  the  name  of  our  holy  mother  1"  ex 
claimed  Zoe,  putting  her  hands  to  her  ears. 

"  Ah  1  well,  if  it  will  do  you  any  good,  I  will  hush  ; 
but  you  will  find  it  is  the  best  way  to  give  in  at  once. 
It  ain't  no  use  to  struggle  against  it ;  it 's  fate.  Others 
have  had  to  do  the  same.  If  I  could  save  you,  I 
would,  but  I  can't ;  and — there  comes  my  master,"  she 
added,  hastily. 

Talbot  now  entered  the  room,  accompanied  by 
Stamps  and  another  person.  He  seemed  to  be  a 
planter,  for  he  was  dressed  in  plain  clothes,  and  car 
ried  a  riding-whip.  But  there  was  a  look  of  manly 
independence  about  him  which  compared  favorably 
with  the  others.  He  started  with  surprise  when  he 
saw  the  girls. 

"Are  these  the  Quadroons  you  mean?"  he  asked, 
suspiciously. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Talbot,  "  these  two.  Come,  stand  up 
here,  Zoe;  you  and  Estelle.  Pretty  good-looking, 
ain't  they  ?"  he  added,  with  a  sly  wink  at  the  stranger. 
He  had  been  drinking  very  freely  that  morning. 

"  Yes,  they  are  remarkably  pretty ;  and  I  do  not 
know  what  to  think  of  it.  They  are  as  white  as  you 
or  myself." 

"Oh!  as  to  that,  here  are  the  papers,"  he  said,  tak 
ing  out  a  bundle ;  "  here- is  the  certificate  of  the  parish 
judge  and  clerk  of  the  court." 

"  Well,  that  is  all  right,"  he  replied,  "but  they  are 
too  pretty  to  sell.  I  would  free  them,  and  so  would 
any  other  man." 


THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS.  349 

"  I  will  not,  though  !  I  can't  afford  to  lose  on  them." 

"  Of  course  any  man  has  a  right  to  do  as  he  chooses 
with  his  own  property." 

Talbot  was  acting  the  brutal  negro-trader,  and  he 
did  it  to  perfection.  He  did  not  really  wish  to  sell 
them  then,  but  he  thought  it  would  add  another  pang 
to  the  hearts  of  the  persecuted  children,  to  be  handled 
like  beasts  by  strange,  unfeeling  hands.  He  wished 
the  pleasure,  the  revenge  of  exhibiting  them  before 
low-bred,  unfeeling  overseers  and  traders.  He  gloried 
in  tearing  their  young  hearts  with  agony.  He  ordered 
them  to  rise  again.  Zoe  did  so,  but  Estelle  obstinately 
refused  to  leave  her  seat.  He  walked  across  the  room, 
and,  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  forcibly  jerked  her  up. 
The  sudden  motion  caused  all  her  long,  dark  hair  to 
fall  showering  over  her  shoulders.  She  resisted,  and 
gathered  up  the  tresses  in  her  hand.  He  was  furious 
with  passion  and  liquor. 

"  Oh  ho  1"  he  exclaimed,  "  your  hair  is  too  trouble 
some  ;  here,  I  will  soon  relieve  you  of  it ;"  and,  seiz- 
her  long,  beautiful  hair  in  his  hands,  at  the  back  of  her 
head,  he  called  for  a  pair  of  scissors.  Catherine 
brought  them,  and,  with  a  few  cuts,  he  severed  it,  or 
the  greater  portion  of  it,  close  to  her  head,  and  threw 
it  on  the  floor. 

"Unmanly  coward!"  cried  Zoe;  but  she  checked 
herself,  remembering  her  situation. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  you  have  done  the  lowest 
trick  I  ever  saw  a  man  do  even  if  they  are  niggers," 
exclaimed  the  stranger ;  "  and  you  ought  to  be  put  in 
their  place,  you  rascal,  and  whipped  to  death."  And 
here  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  left  the  room. 

Talbot  was  in  a  moment  heartily  ashamed  of  his 


350  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

act ;  and  would  have  given  much  to  recall  it ;  but  he 
resolved  to  brave  it  through ;  and  busting  into  a  hoarse 
laugh,  he  followed  the  other  from  the  room. 

Stamps  remained  behind,  leaning  against  the  chim 
ney-piece.  He  had  witnessed  the  act,  and  stood  gazing 
on  the  floor.  At  length  he  looked  up,  and  sighed 
deeply.  "  Well,  all  I  wish  is,  that  I  had  never  had 
any  thing  to  do  with  this — and  with  such  a  man." 
Zoe  heard  him,  and  her  heart  fluttered  with  agitation. 
She  turned  her  eyes  toward  him  a  moment,  and  trem 
blingly  exclaimed — "  Oh,  sir,  your  heart  is  touched  at 
our  distress.  Will  you  assist  us  ?" 

"  My  poor  girl,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  too  late  for  me 
to  do  any  thing  now,  if  I  felt  inclined.  When  I  went 
to  Paris  after  you  was  the  time."  After  a  pause,  he 
continued,  "  I  once  thought  I  could  look  unmoved  on 
any  thing ;  but  when  I  saw  that  man  go  up  to  that 
poor  child,  and,  like  a  malicious  "devil,  cut  off  her  hair ; 
and  she,  an  uncomplaining  angel,  not  to  say  a  word,  or 
make  a  motion,  but  look  so  sorrowful  and  pitiful,  like 
a  lamb  that  the  butcher's  bloody  hands  are  upon,  that 
touched  me ;  and  I  repeat,  that  I  am  sorry  that  I  ever 
lent  my  aid  to  any  such  a  scheme ;  and  if  there  is  a 
God,  he  will  punish  it." 

"  Oh,  do  not  doubt  it !"  exclaimed  Zoe ;  "  do  not 
doubt  it ;  there  is  a  great  and  good  Father  above  us 
all.  Oh,  do  help  us,  and  he  will  bless  you." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  replied  the  woman ;  "  keep  still ;  and 
you,"  she  remarked  to  him ;  "  you  are  a  pretty  fellow 
to  stir  up  a  rebellion  among  your  friend's  property." 

"  Come,  Catherine !"  he  said,  "  you  have  been  badly 
treated,  but  you  have  no  feeling.  You  are  a  fit  match 
for  Talbot." 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  351 

"  I  glory  in  the  depravity  of  human  nature,"  she 
replied,  exultingly ;  "  you  are  a  milk-sop  by  the  side 
x>f  him.,  I  was  not  depraved  when  a  child;  and  I 
want  to  see  misery  for  misery."  , 

11  That  may  be  a  very  good  doctrine,"  he  remarked, 
"  but  not  one  that  is  preached  by  good  men." 

"  There  is  nothing  good  in  this  world,"  she  said ; 
''nothing!  but  what  did  you  call  that  man  Talbot 
for  ?  Why  harrow  up  my  soul  with  that  name  that 
I  hoped  was  dead?  You  call  him  Tolly. 

"  That  is  a  nick-name ;  but  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing !  only  that  was  the  name  of  a  happy 
family  before  ruin  came  into  it." 

"Where?" 

"In  the  whitened  sepulcher  of  Boston." 

" Did  you  live  there?" 

"I  did." 

"  Is  Catherine  your  real  name?" 

"  It  was  not." 

"What  was  it?" 

"  Fancy." 

"You  are  Talbot's  sister,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
rushed  from  the  room.  In  a  few  moments  Talbot 
entered.  His  face  was  pale,  and  his  teeth  were 
clinched  upon  his  whitened  lips.  ' 

.-£' Woman,"  he  said,  sternly,  approaching  her,  "I 
learn  that  your  name  is  Talbot." 

"Yes." 

"  You  lived  in  Boston  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Nancy  Talbot  was  your  mother."     <.. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  you  are  my  sister." 


352  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  I  have  found  a  nice  relation." 

"  And  I." 

"No  recrimination.  I  have  played  a  horrid  and 
unnatural  part." 

"  When  this  scene  is  acted  I  shall  die — the  aveng 
ing  finger  of  God  is  upon  you}"1 

"I  believe  you  are  more  sinned  against  than  sin 
ning,  Nancy."  He  went  hastily  down  stairs. 

"  There  is  no  hope,"  sighed  Zoe. 

"None,  none!"  echoed  Estelle. 

The  day  wore  on.  Zoe  was  sad  and  uncomplain 
ing,  Estelle  in  tears. 

Nancy,  whom  we  will  now  call  by  her  proper  name, 
sat  in  a  corner,  with  a  handkerchief  over  her  head. 
She  was  silent,  and  would  reply  to  no  questions. 

Estelle  was  nervous  and  excited;  and  kept  con 
stantly  going  to  the  window,  as  if  she  was  expecting 
some  person. 

Talbot  had  been  in  and  out  several  times.  He  had 
drank  freely,  and  his  face  was  flushed.  He  seemed  to 
be  losing  his  accustomed  sagacity.  He  would  ap 
proach  Nancy — gaze  at  her — seem  to  be  moved — 
then,  as  if  he  would  spurn  her  with  his  foot,  turn  off 
to  Estelle.  In  going  down  the  steps  he  met 
Stamps. 

" Tolly,"  said  he,  "I  have  urged  you  all  along  to 
go  through  with  this  matter ;  but  I  feel  this  morning 
asJ[  never  felt  before.  The  poor  things  look  so  pitiful 
— so  helpless  and  unprotected — that  I  can  not  help 
feeling  for  them." 

"Why,  you  are  turning  to  be  a  soft,  putty-headed 
fool,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile  of  contempt.  "  What 


THE    CREOLE    OEPHANS.  353 

has  got  into  you,  Billy?  Are  you  going  to  join  the 
church  ?  Are  you  afraid  ?" 

"  Tolly,  you  know  I  am  not.  "Where  hard  knocks 
are  going,  there  I  '11  never  flinch ;  but  I  don't  like 
this." 

"Your  conversion  is  sudden,"  replied  Talbot,  en 
raged. 

"  So  was  Saul's.  I  only  wish  mine  had  been 
earlier.  Tolly,  you  may  do  what  you  please,  but  I  '11 
be  hanged  if  I  move  another  peg  in  the  affair." 

"Well,  I'll  carry  it  on  myself,  then,"  he  answered, 
turning  off  abruptly.  "  Even  the  devil  is  against  me," 
he  muttered,  as  he  walked  slowly  back. 

There  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  number  of  negros 
belonging  to  a  succession,  to  be  sold  at  the  Court 
House  this  day;  and  the  sale  had  been  extensively 
advertised. 

There  were  many  planters  and  others  in  town,  and 
more  constantly  coming  in. 

The  sale  began.  Many  negros  were  sold,  but  it 
was  the  mere  changing  one  home  for  another,  only 
the  transfer  of  a  negro  from  one  plantation  to  another, 
where  the  same  rights  and  privileges  were  allowed 
them.  "Whole  families  were  sold  together,  not  sepa 
rate,  as  some  have  averred.  Many  persons  had  come 
to  the  sale  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing,  and  others 
for  sight-seeing;  many  to  compare  notes  on  their 
crops,  and  take  a  friendly  drink ;  and  some  to  elec 
tioneer.  But  others  had  heard  of  the  sale,  and  had 
come  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  the  two  beautiful 
Quadroon  girls,  whose  fame  had  gone  abroad.  The 
sale  proceeded,  and,  finally,  the  first  crowd  of  negros 
were  sold.  The  auctioneer  now  informed  Talbot,  who 


354  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

stood  by,  that  lie  must  bring  out  his  slaves.  His  heart 
beat  fast,  and  he  felt  that  if  he  could  have  crept  out  of 
it,  he  would  have  done  so.  "  Are  they  not  my  slaves  ?" 
he  muttered,  as  he  walked  toward  the  hotel;  "at 
least,  until  some  one  takes  the  trouble  of  finding  out 
the  truth." 

It  was  not  many  minutes  ere  he  entered  the  room. 
The  girls  sat  hand  in  hand,  with  cheeks  from  which 
every  vestige  of  color  had  fled.  "When  they  saw 
him  Estelle  uttered  a  scream,  and  both  trembled  vio 
lently. 

""Will  you  agree  to  my  terms  now?"  he  asked, 
tauntingly. 

Zoe  looked  at  her  sister  inquiringly. 

"  Nonpas  ;  en  Dieu  est  man  espoir"  she  said. 

Zoe  turned  to  him,  and  replied,  calmly,  "  No,  sir ; 
do  your  worst." 

"  Then,  come,"  he  answered ;  "the  auction  block  is 
ready  for  you." 

Both  arose.  Zoe  laughed  hysterically,  but  he  seized 
her  by  the  arm,  and  forced  her  forward. 

"You  scorned  me,"  said  he;  "now  comes  my 
time." 

Your  revenge  is  terrible,  Talbot;  but  do  not  tell 
how  you  treated  the  children  of  your  benefactor, 
for  it  may  be  the  means  of  preventing  some  other 
Ormond  from  helping  another  fellow-creature  in  dis 
tress  ;  it  will  make  men  lose  confidence  in  human 
nature. 

They  left  the  room.  Nancy  sprung  up  from  her 
seat;  her  eyes  sparkled  wildly,  and  she  stretched 
forth  her  skinny  hand  in  a  menacing  attitude. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  355 

"  You  go  to  your  death !"  site  exclaimed,  with  the 
air  of  a  prophetess. 

"All  are  turning  fools,"  he  answered ;  while  she  stood 
gazing  after  them,  as  they  slowly  went  down  the  steps. 

Stamps  paced  hurriedly  back  and  forth  in  his  own 
room  ;  he  was  in  a  state  of  violent  agitation. 

Talbot  walked  first,  with  the  papers  proving  the 
girls  to  be  of  negro  descent,  and  slaves,  and  his  prop 
erty;  while  they  followed  slowly,  with  downcast 
heads,  behind  him. 

"When  they  came  up  to  the  stand,  expressions  of 
astonishment  greeted  them  from  the  group  assembled 
there,  and  murmurs  of  surprise  were  audible,  mingled 
with  those  of  distrust.  "jK 

"  These  girls  are  white  women !"  shouted  some  one 
in  the  crowd. 

"  The  owner  is  present,"  answered  the  auctioneer ; 
"  and  here,  in  my  hands,  I  hold  his  titles  to  the  prop- 
erty." 

"  Eead  them  1  read  them !"  cried  several. 

The  auctioneer  here  read  the  certificates,  which 
really  proved  the  property  to  be  his. 

"  It 's  a  terrible  shame !"  cried  some  one. 

Talbot  was  exceedingly  alarmed. 

"  There  is  no  mistake  about  it,"  said  the  auctioneer; 
"  they  are  the  children  of  a  white  man  by  a  Quadroon 
woman  ;  it  is  all  fair,  but  they  ought  to  be  free  ;  the 
papers  are  right.  Come,  up  with  the  eldest  one." 

Zoe  was  lifted  up  on  the  stand,  and  made  to  pull  off 
her  bonnet.  There  stood  the  tenderly-raised  girl,  the 
refined  and  cultivated  lady,  exposed  for  public  sale, 
and  the  blush  of  shame  called  to  her  cheek  by  the 
licentious  and  bold  gaze  of  a  hundred  men.  She 


356  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

could  not  speak,  her  tongue  grew  thick,  and  her  brain 
denied  her  eyes  the  power  of  performing  their  office ; 
a  misty  haze  fell  upon  her  senses  ;  the  agony  of  ages 
was  concentrated  in  a  single  moment  of  time.  She 
was  supported  by  the  assistant  auctioneer ;  every  thing 
was  dark  around  her ;  eager  eyes  were  bent  on  her  as 
the  auctioneer  proceeded  and  descanted  on  her  beauty 
and  fine  form. 

"  How  much  am  I  offered  for  this  girl,  only  eight 
een  years  old,  and  a  full  guaranty  as  to  title  ?  One 
thousand  dollars  !  only  one  thousand  !" 

Eleven  hundred  was  offered  by  a  rakish-looking  old 
fellow,  who  took  snuff,  and  had  an  accent  like  a  Lon 
don  cockney. 

As  she  composed  herself,  her  eyes  were  bent  on  the 
crowd ;  eagerly  she  sought  for  some  friendly  face,  but 
although  there  were  many  noble  countenances  in  the 
assembly,  many  of  whom  expressed  sympathy,  yet 
surprise  at  her  extreme  beauty  kept  them  silent. 

Twelve,  thirteen  hundred  dollars  were  successively 
bid — the  poor  girl  gasped  for  breath.  The  bids  were 
not  animated ;  they  seemed  to  come  reluctantly ;  dis 
content  was  manifest,  and  a  low  murmuring  was  dis 
cernible.  At  first  it  was  feeble,  but  it  gathered  strength 
as  it  proceeded. 

"  Fourteen  hundred  dollars !"  cried  a  young  planter, 
whose  gaze  was  fixed  on  her. 

"  We  will  stop  this  sale !"  cried  one. 

"  She  can  not  be  a  slave !"  said  another. 

"  We  can  not  allow  this  sale  to  proceed !"  exclaimed 
a  tall,  noble-looking  man. 

"  Upon  what  ground  do  you  enjoin  it?"  asked  the 
auctioneer. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  357 

A  faintness  came  over  Zoe. 

"Because  we  believe  there  is  rascality  in  the  affair." 

"  Fifteen  hundred  dollars !  A  splendid  sempstress, 
and  fully  guaranteed;  first-rate  hairdresser.  Fifteen 
hundred  and  fifty !  Worth  double  the  money  1" 

A  pause  followed. 

"  Sixteen  hundred  dollars !     Can  read  and  write." 

"  Stop  !  we  will  investigate  this  affair." 

"  Here  are  the  papers  ;  the  owner  is  well  known  as 
a  wealthy  planter." 

"Damn  the  papers  !  damn  the  owner  !" 

The  crowd  now  grew  noisy,  and  it  was  plainly  per 
ceptible  that  there  would  be  a  riot. 

"  Order,  gentlemen,  order !" 

Curses  and  loud  exclamations  were  heard,  and  the 
tumult  was  so  great  as  to  preclude  all  possibility  of  the 
sale  proceeding. 

"  Mr.  Sheriff!"  cried  the  auctioneer,  "  I  call  on  you 
to  keep  the  peace." 

"  Damn  the  sheriff!  If  she  is  a  slave,  we  will  buy 
and  free  her,"  shouted  one. 

" Yes,  yes!" 

"Order!  order!" 

"Ask  the  girl  some  questions,"  cried  one. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  that 's  the  ticket !" 

"  Are  you  a  slave  or  not?"  asked  a  gentleman. 

The  poor  girl  trembled  violently;  she  tried  to 
speak ;  her  lips  moved  ;  a  deadly  paleness  came  over 
her  features,  and  she  'fell  back  in  a  death-like 
swoon. 

Just  as  the  tumult  was  at  its  greatest  height,  the 
sound  of  horses'  feet  were  heard,  and  down  the,  road 
came  a  band  of  men,  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 


358  THE    CEEOLE    ORPHANS. 

They  came  thundering  up,  and  into  the  crowd,  which 
scattered  right  and  left. 

li Hold!"  .exclaimed  a  deep  voice  from  among  the 
horsemen.  The  speaker  made  his  way  to  the  stand, 
and  leaped  from  his  steed,  while  the  crowd  gave  way, 
as  the  others  followed  his  example. 

"  God  has  heard  our  prayer  !  Oh,  mother,  you  have 
done  this  1"  cried  Estelle,  as  she  fell  into  the  arms  of 
Dr.  Grant — for  it  was  he.  Upon  the  scaffold  was 
Louis  Lamotte ;  he  was  supporting  the  insensible  form 
of  Zoe. 

"Dear  Zoe  !"  he  cried,  pressing  her  convulsively  to 
his  bosom,  "  awake  !  awake  1  you  are  saved !  you  are 
among  your  friends." 

"Where  is  the  atrocious  scoun'drel?"  cried  Mr. 
Herndon,  seeking  Talbot  in  the  crowd.  So  absorbed 
had  been  every  person  present,  that  they  had  not 
given  any  attention  to  Talbot  during  this  extraordin 
ary  scene.  He  was  now  sought,  but  was  not  to  be 
seen.  "  Help  me  to  seek  him,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr. 
Herndon.  "  When  we  have  secured  him,  we  will  ex 
plain  it  all." 

The  crowd  now  scattered  through  the  town  to  search 
for  him.  The  excitement  was  intense,  and  maledic 
tions  resounded  from  all  sides. 

Talbot,  however,  was  off.  A  negro  stated  that  he 
had  just  come  in  town  with  a  team,  and  that  a  man 
on  horseback  had  passed  him  at  full  speed,  going 
toward  the  river.  A  party  of  armed  men  instantly 
mounted,  and  started  in  pursuit. 

"  Five  thousand  dollars,"  cried  Dr.  Grant,  "  to  the 
man  who  catches  him  alive." 

The  crowd  spurred  on,  with  a  stern  determination 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  359 

to  wreak  on  him  their  vengeance.  Mr.  Herndon  fol 
lowed  after  them.  He  was  bent  upon  capturing  him 
alive,  to  inflict  on  him  the  most  terrible  punishment. 

Zoe  had  by  this  time  recovered,  and  hid  her  face 
in  Louis's  bosom.  They  were  taken  toward  the  hotel. 

"  Where  is  the  other  villain?"  asked  Dr.  Grant. 

"  He  is  at  the  hotel,"  replied  Zoe. 

Immediately  a  rush  was  made  to  prevent  his  escape. 
The  building  was  surrounded,  and  several  men  went 
to  the  room.  It  was  secured.  They  demanded  admit 
tance,  but  no  answer  was  returned.  A  threat  to  break 
in  the  door  was  answered  by  a  scornful  laugh ;  and 
then  the  wild  gibbering  of  a  female  voice  was  heard, 
as  if  from  a  lunatic. 

Stamps  was  in  the  room,  however.  He  had  seen 
the  horsemen  when  they  passed  the  hotel,  and  he 
knew  the  game  was  up.  He  knew  he  had  to  die  or  be 
imprisoned,  and  he  preferred  the  former.  He^  would 
not  yield. 

When  the  threat  of  opening  the  door  by  force  was 
made,  he  remained  silent ;  but  when  blows  began  to 
resound  through  the  house,  he  called  out,  "Hold!" 
and  sprang  at  once  into  the  gallery  which  overlooked 
the  street.  The  crowd  received  him  with  cheers  of 
derision,  and  shouts  of  execration. 

He  stood  calmly,  with  his  hands  folded  over  his 
breast,  and  returned  back  the  look  of  scorn  fearlessly. 
If  ever  he  did  look  nobty,  it  was  then,  as  he  there 
stood,  confronting  the  angry  crowd,  cool  and  collected, 
gazing  defiance  below. 

"  Shoot  him  1"  cried  one ;  and  several  pistols  were 
drawn  to  execute  the  order ;  but  they  were  struck  up, 
and  exploded  harmlessly  in  the  air.  Stamps  moved 


360  THE    CKEOLE    ORPHANS. 

not,  as  the  balls  whistled  past  him,  and  struck  the 
splinters  from  the  weather-boarding  behind  him.  He 
was  calm,  and  a  look  of  cold  contempt  was  upon  his 
lips.  Not  a  muscle  quivered,  as  the  terrible  cry  rang 
out  from  the  maddened  mob. 

"  He  's  game,  at  any  rate,"  said  an  old  backwoods 
man. 

"  We  will  give  him  a  warmer  death  than  that  I" 
cried  Dr.  Grant,  now  appearing  from  the  hotel. 

"  Burn  him  !  burn  him  alive  !"  shouted  a  voice. 

"Hold,  a  moment!"  cried  Stamps.  The  angry 
crowd  sank  into  a  gentle  murmur. 

"  I  know  very  well  that  I  will  never  leave  here 
alive.  I  know  that  I  am  bound  to  die ;  but  it  will 
never  be  by  your  hands.  My  neck  was  never  formed 
for  a  halter,  or  my  form  for  the  torch.  Singly,  I  would 
cope  with  any  one  of  you  here  ;  but  you  are  all  against 
me." 

"  "We  '11  see,  we  '11  see  I"  they  cried.  "  Eun  up,  and 
break  open  the  door.  "We  will  prevent  his  escape  that 
way." 

"  Wait !  don't  give  yourselves  any  trouble !"  he 
exclaimed,  with  a  sneering  smile.  Here  he  drew  a 
pistol  from  his  bosom,  and,  coolly  cocking  it,  placed 
it  to  his  head.  He  gazed  upward  for  a  moment ;  his 
lips  moved ;  a  cry  of  horror  rang  through  the  mass, 
and  fifty  arms  were  stretched  out,  as  if  to  grasp  the 
weapon.  His  finger  moved  convulsively,  and  a  report 
was  heard.  He  sprang  upward,  and  then  fell  heavily 
on  the  floor.  His  brains  were  spattered  against  the 
wall. 

"  Behold  the  finger  of  God !"  cried  a  female  voice  ; 
and  a  maniac  appeared  by  the  side  of  the  bloody  corpse. 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHAN'S.       .  361 

A  deep  groan  resounded  through  the  crowd,  and 
they  silently  dispersed,  with  a  chill  of  horror  at  the 
tragedy. 

It  will  interest  the  reader  to  know  how  our  friends 
happened  to  arrive  so  opportunely. 

Upon  reaching  New  Orleans,  they  took  the  first 
boat  up-stream,  and  arrived  just  two  days  after  Talbot 
had  taken  the  girls  away,  as  has  been  detailed.  Mr. 
Herndon  sought  Eierre,  who  informed  him  of  the 
whole  plot ;  and  the  three  at  once  left,  post  haste,  in 
pursuit.  They  traveled  all  night,  and  only  stopped  to 
procure  fresh  horses  and  food.  They  thus  arrived  in 
time  to  prevent  the  devilish  designs  of  Talbot. 

The  reunited  friends  occupied  the  parlor  of  the 
hotel,  and  the  sweet  communion  of  souls  soon  relieved 
them  of  the  horrible  feeling  which  oppressed  them. 
The  events  of  the  past  years  were  not  touched  upon ; 
that  was  reserved  for  another  time.  They  questioned 
the  girls  about  their  late  adventures  only  enough  to 
understand  the  conduct  of  Talbot.  With  reserve  and 
diffidence  Zoe  hid  every  thing  of  a  gross  nature, 
but  said  enough  to  make  them  comprehend  the  de 
signs  of  the  man  whom  their  father  had  taken  by  the 
hand. 

"The  plan  was  well  conceived,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  and  came  very  nearly  being  well  executed ;  but  they 
will  overtake  him  doubtless,  and  I  am  afraid  Herndon 
will  kill  him.  You  can  never  sufficiently  thank  Mr. 
Herndon  for  the  interest  he  has  taken  in  you." 

To  return  to  Talbot.  He  had  seen  with  intuitive 
tact,  long  before  the  scene  of  the  arrival,  that  matters 
were  drawing  to  a  culminating  point.  He  saw  that  a 
scene  was  to  be  enacted,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  be 

16 


362  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

present  at  the  close  of  the  drama ;  he  was  perfectly 
unmanned,  and  desired  only  to  get  away,  leaving 
Stamps  to  settle  the  matter  as  best  he  might. 

Therefore,  when  the  tumult  was  at  its  greatest 
height,  and  he  saw  up  the  road  the  dust  rising  as  of 
a  troop  riding  swiftly,  the  horrible  and  fearful  truth 
flashed  across  his  mind ;  he  mounted  the  nearest  horse 
and  sped  swiftly  away ;  trees,  fences,  and  fields  were 
passed ;  they  shot  by  him  like  lightning.  He  urged 
the  horse  to  the  top  of  his  speed.  He  strained  his  ears, 
and  fancied  he  could  hear  the  sounds  of  pursuit. 
Again  he  pressed  his  horse  and  left  behind  him  his 
foes  and  his  fears.  He  was  returning  by  the  same 
road  which  his  pursuers  came ;  they  had  entered  the 
town  by  different  roads,  and  thus  he  luckily  avoided 
a  meeting.  Again  he  pressed  his  jaded  horse,  and 
away  he  flew.  He  gazed  behind  him,  no  one  was  in 
sight — but  his  steed  was  flagging.  He  listened ;  there 
were  sounds  of  the  rapid  tread  of  horses,  and  the 
voices  of  men.  There  was  no  doubt  of  it — he  was 
pursued.  A  cold  sweat  broke  out  over  his  body ;  he 
clung  to  the  mane  of  his  horse;  he  ventured  to  turn 
in  his  saddle;  he  could  see  them ;  there  they  were,  one, 
two,  three,  four — seven  men,  and  riding  as  if  for  life ; 
frantically  he  cheered  his  now  nearly  exhausted  horse. 
There  is  no  way  of  escaping — the  road,  was  long  and 
straight,  and  a  high  fence  bounded  either  side.  He 
gives  himself  up  for  lost,  but  no !  Oh !  blessed  sight ; 
the  Mississippi  is  in  view.  He  gazed  at  the  waving 
trees  on  the  opposite  shore.  Never  did  the  children 
of  Israel  long  to  place  the  Eed  Sea  between  Pharoah's 
host  and  themselves  and  be  in  safety  more  fervently 
than  did  he  long  to  be  beyond  the  river.  He  could 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  863 

hear  their  shouts,  and  in  the  front  rank  was  Herndon ; 
they  were  nearing  him. 

With  frenzy  he  pressed  his  horse — the  river  bank 
was  reached — his  horse  staggered  and  fell  dead.  It 
was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  leap  from  his  back,  and 
jump  into  a  small  skiff  which  lay  near  the  shore.  He 
seized  an  oar,  and  shoved  it  out  in  the  stream. 

As  the  current  floated  him  away, -the  pursuing  party 
reached  the  bank. 

How  they  cursed  and  raved.  He  tried  with  the  one 
Dar  to  pull  further  out,  but  was  unused  to  manage 
a  boat.  The  wind  was  very  strong,  and  she  shipped 
several  waves  as  she  fell  into  the  trough.  It  was 
blowing  up  stream,  and  this  made  it  much  rougher 
than  it  would  have  been.s 

"  Shoot  him,  before  he  gets  too  far !"  said  some  one. 

"  jN"o,  no  I  let  us  catch  him  alive,"  cried  another. 

"  Eide  down  below,  and  get  a  skiff;  he  has  only  got 
one  oar,  and  can't  get  away,"  cried  Herndon. 

A  pistol  was  fired  at  him,  and  the  ball  made  music 
close  to  his  ears.  Another  pistol  was  fired,  but  the 
bullet  passed  far  away. 

The  wind  now  increased,  and  suddenly  came  around. 
The  veering  of  the  wind  made  the  waves  run  very 
liigh;  and 'how  a  new  danger  awaited  him.  He  was 
out  of  all  fefrr  of*  pursuit ;  but  a  pistol  ball  might  strike 
him.  The  worst  danger  now  was  the  waves.  The 
skiff  shipped  more  and  more  water.  She  became 
heavy,  and  broke  through  the  waves,  instead  of  riding 
them.  He  jumped  up  in  the  boat,  terrified,  for  he 
could  not  swim.  With  no  oars  to  steady  the  boat, 
she  was  at  every  dash  of  the  roughened  water  dancing 
like  a  feather,  or  down  in  a  deep  trough ;  and  every 


864  THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS. 

wave  which  broke  over  her  side  threw  more  water 
into  her.  She  was  half  full. 

Another  pistol  was  fired.  A  yell  of  agony  broke 
from  him ;  the  bullet  had  taken  effect  in  his  shoulder. 
He  was  standing — the  oar  was  dropped — the  blood 
spouted.  At  this  moment  a  large  wave  lifted  the  boat 
and  dashed  her  in  the  hollow.  He  lost  his  balance 
and  fell  overboard.  He  uttered  a  cry  of  despair  as  he 
sank ;  but  he  arose,  and  the  water  was  stained  with 
blood.  "With  terror  in  his  strained  eye-balls,  he 
shrieked  for  help  on  shore.  A  laugh  of  derision  was 
his  only  answer.  He  tried  to  grasp  the  boat,  which, 
now  lightened  of  his  weight,  danced  merrily,  just  out 
of  his  reach.  Several  times  did  he  almost  grasp  it ; 
but  he  was  as  often  foiled.  His  strength  gave  way. 
He  turned  a  beseeching  glance  toward  the  shore.  He 
uttered  a  last  scream  as  he  sunk,  and  the  water  gurgled 
around  him.  And  thus  he  died,  with  the  spirit  of  the 
injured  Ormond  hanging  around  him,  and  dragging 
him  down,  down,  down. 

We  have  done.  The  next  day,  the  party  left  for 
the  rightful  home  of  the  children  of  the  noble  Ormond ; 
and  in  a  few  weeks  a  happy  bridal  party  filled  the  old 
parish  church.  The  principals  were  Louis  and  Zoe. 

They  took  up  their  residence  in  the  home  of  their 
childhood.  They  revisited  old  scenes,  and  reveled  in 
unforgotten  haunts.  They  passed  many  an  hour  by 
the  side  of  the  li^le  stream  from  the  lake,  where,  when 
children,  they  had  gathered  wild-flowers  in  spring; 
and  beneath  the  shade  of  the  old  trees  where  they 
had  reposed  long,  long  ago ;  but  the  voices  of  love 
and  affection  were  silenced.  The  old  arms  of  the  oaks 
waved  again  and  welcomed  them ;  and  under  their 


THE    CREOLE    ORPHANS.  -    865 

shadow  were  two  green  Hillocks  of  earth.  The  same 
summer  wind  breathed  its  melancholy  tones  through 
the  branches,  and  filled  the  air  with  its  leafy  music,  as 
in  times  of  yore.  There  were  the  same  blue  clouds 
floating  in  the  heavens ;  and  the  same  mocking-birds 
trilled  out  their  exquisite  notes ;  but  the  sweet  voices 
of  parental  tenderness  were  absent.  They  were  not 
there.  Those  tones  which  had  filled  their  hearts  with 
joy  were  silent ;  the  pulses  still — the  silver  cord  was 
broken. 

But  enough. 

Dr.  Grant  took  up  his  residence  with  them.  The 
hopes  which  were  buried  seemed  again  to  revive,  like 
the  flowers  of  spring,  and  old  feelings  began  to  creep 
over  him.  Still,  sorrow  had  swept  with  a  hand  of 
desolation  over  the  strings  of  his  soul ;  and  there  were 
a  few  cords  unstrung,  as  if  from  the  cold  blast  of  the 
North.  Yet,  he  sat  in  the  gallery  with  Louis,  Zoe, 
and  Estelle ;  and  often  Mr.  Herndon  came  over  of  an 
evening,  to  listen  to  him,  with  his  Turkish  pipe,  as  he 
entertained  his  auditors  with  tales  of  the  marvelous 
and  strange  from  other  lands. 


THE    END. 


J.  c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


"IT  IS  A  LOVE  TALE  OF  THE  MOST  ENTRANCING  KIND," 

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ISORA'S      CHILD. 

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as  well  by  the  graceful  style  and  the  skill  with  which  the  different  scenes  are  arranged, 
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There  ia  no  crowding  and  consequent  confusion  among  the  dramatis  persona.  There 
are  two  heroines,  however,  Flora  and  Cora,  both  bewitching  creatures,  and,  what  If 
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"  The  readers  of  the  Louisville  Journal  need  uo  introduction  from  us  to  Bell  Smith. 
Her  own  brilliant  pen,  and  her  own  sparkling,  witching  and  delightful  style  have  so  often 
graced  the  columns  of  this  paper,  and  have  made  so  many  friends  and  admirers  for  her, 
that  we  need  say  but  little  toward  creating  a  demand  for  this  charming  volume.  But 
some  tribute  is  nevertheless  due  to  Bell  Smith  for  the  real  pleasure  she  has  imparted  in 
every  chapter  of  her  book,  and  that  tribute  we  cheerfully  pay.  Her  admirable  powers 
seem  so  much  at  home  in  every  variety  and  phase  of  life,  that  she  touches  no  subject 
Without  making  it  sparkle  with  the  lights  of  her  genius."— Louisville  Journal. 

"  She  is  ever  piquant  in  her  remarks,  and  keen  from  observation ;  and  the  result  is 
that  her  '  Abroad'  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  collections  of  incident  and  comment,  fun 
and  pathos,  seriousness  and  gossip,  which  has  ever  fallen  under  our  notice." — Boston 
Evening  Traveller. 

"  It  is  dashing  and  vigorous  without  coarseness — animated  with  a  genial  humor — 
showing  acute  and  delicate  perceptions — and  sustained  by  a  bracing  infusion  of  common 
sense."— N.  Y.  Tribune. 

"There  are  many  delicate  strokes,  and  not  a  little  of  that  vivacity  of  description 
which  entertains.  The  author  shows  her  beat  side  when  matters  of  home-feeling  and 
affection  engage  her  pen." — 2f.  Y.  Evang-dist. 

"  History,  art  and  personal  narrative  are  alike  imprinted  in  your  memory  by  the  asso 
ciations  of  anecdote,  merry  and  grave,  and  you  feel  that  you  are  listening  to  the  magical 
voice  of '  Bell  Smith'  at  home.  Such  volumes  enrich  and  honor  American  literature." — 
Philadelphia  Merchant. 

"  This  is  a  capital  book  ;  full  of  life,  spirit,  vivacity  and  information— thoroughly  lady 
like,  and  telling  precisely  what  everybody  wants  to  hear,  so  far  as  the  author  knows." — 
Salem  Gazette. 

"  Spirited  and  artistic !  Bell  Smith  sparkles,  and  dashes  on,  amusing  and  interesting. 
A  capital  book  for  a  leisure  hour  or  railroad  travel,  or  for  those  seasons  when  you  want 
to  be  pleased  without  effort." — Cleveland  Leader. 

"  We  like  Bell  Smith  and  Bell  Smith's  book.  A  lively,  free,  dashing  style,  she  talks 
on,  and  nothing  is  wanting  but  the  merry  laugh  we  know  she  is  owner  of  to  make  us 
think  we  are  listening  to  a  very  interesting  woman." — Chicago  Journal. 

"Lively,  gossiping,  chatting,  witty,  sparkling  Bell  Smith,  we  must  confess  your  book 
has  quite  enchanted  us."— N.  Y.  Day  Book. 

"  In  freshness,  piquancy,  and  delightful  episodes,  illustrative  of  foreign  life  »nd  man- 
wers,  they  have  rarely  been  equalled." — N~<ttional  Era. 


j.  «.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


THK    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    TRAVELLERS' 
ENTERTAINMENT. 

BY  JO  SI  AH   BARNES,    SEN. 
12mo.     $1. 

"  They  will  be  read  with  earnest  sympathy  and  heartfelt  approval  by  all  who  enjoy 
quiet  pictures  of  the  homely,  yet  often  charming  scenes  of  daily  life.  The  style  well 
befits  the  thoughts  expressed,  and  is  equally  simple  and  'repressive.  We  have  found  in 
these  pages  better  than  a  '  traveller's  entertainment '—one  which  will  mingle  with  the 
pleasant  recollections  of  a  home  fireside."— Providence  Daily  Post. 

"  If  any  of  our  friends  wish  to  get  hold  of  a  book  written  in  a  style  of  pure  and  beau 
tiful  English,  that  reminds  one  of  Irving  continually  ;  a  book  rich  with  inventions  of  the 
marvellous,  and  yet  abounding  in  sweet  humanities  and  delicate  philosophies— a  book 
that  will  not  tire  and  cannot  offend,  let  them  go  to  a  bookstore  and  buy  '  The  Old  Inn  ; 
or,  the  Travellers'  Entertainment,'  by  Josiah  Barnes,  Sen.  It  will  pay  the  leader  well." 
— Springfield  (Mass.)  Republican. 

"It  should  be  praise  enough  to  say  that  the  author  reminds  one  occasionally  ol 
Irving."— Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"  Unless  we  err  greatly,  a  volume  so  markedly  original  in  its  outline  and  features  will 
attract  a  large  share  of  attention." — Boston  Evening  Gazette. 

"  This  is  a  very  pleasant  book.  The  plan  of  it,  if  not  new,  is  just  as  well  carried  out. 
'Five  'r  six  'r  half-a-dozen  '  travellers  meet  at  an  indifferent  tavern  in  an  indifferent 
part  of  Vermont,  upon  a  seriously  unpleasant  day,  and  to  pass  away  the  dull  hours,  they 
fall  to  story-telling.  The  record  of  their  performances  in  that  behalf  is  made  up  into  the 
yolurne  '  above  entitled.'  So  agreeable  became  the  diversion  that  not  only  the  evening 
of  the  first  day,  but  as  the  following  morning  was  conveniently  stormy,  the  second  day 
U  consumed  in  similar  diversions.  Those  who  read  the  book  will  agree  with  us,  that  a 
stormy  day  and  a  country  inn,  with  such  alleviation,  presents  no  very  great  hardship  to 
ihe  traveller,  unless  his  business  is  particularly  urgent.  We  commend  the  book  to  those 
«ho  like  a  peasant  story,  pleasantly  told."— Budget,  Troy,  N.  T. 
"  Under  the  above  title  we  have  several  interesting  stories  as  told  by  the  various  cha- 
icters  at  tne  fireside  of  a  comfortable,  old-fashioned  inn,  to  while  away  the  long  hours 
»  a  torn,  by  which  they  were  detained  The  Little  Dry  Man's,  the  supposed  Lawyer's, 
*ud  the  Quaker's  stories  are  all  worth  listening  to.  They  are  well  told  and  entertain  the 
rtJider."— Bangor  Journal. 

«'  This  is  a  serie*  of  stories,  supposed  to  be  related  to  while  away  the  time,  in  an  old 
inn,  where  a  party  of  travellers  are  storm-stayed,  consisting  of  the  '  Little  Dry  Man's 
Story,' the  'Supposed  Lawyer's  Story,'  'Incidents  of  a  Day  at  the  Inn,'  the  'Quaker's 
Story,'  and  '  Ellen's  Grave.'  The  stories  are  well  told.  There  is  a  charming  simplicity 
in  the  author's  style— all  the  more  delightful,  because,  now-a-days,  simplicity  of  lan 
guage  is  a  rarity  with  authors.  It  is  a  book  to  take  up  at  any  moment,  and  occupy  a 
leisure  hour — to  lay  aside,  and  take  tip  again  and  again.  We  commend  its  tone,  and 
the  object  of  the  author.  It  is  a  pleasant  companion  on  a  country  journey."— .#.  ¥ 
Ditpatok. 


j    c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


JACK    DOWNING'S    NEW   BOOK! 


•WAY      DOWN      EAST; 

OR,    PORTRAITURES   OF  YANKEE   LIFE. 

BY  SEE  A  SMITH,  JSSQ. 
Illustrated,  12mo.    Price  $1. 

"  We  greet  the  Major,  after  a  long  interval,  with  profound  pleasure  and  respect.  WeJJ 
do  we  remember  how,  years  ago,  we  used  to  pore  over  his  lucubrations  on  the  events  of 
the  time — how  he  enlightened  us  by  his  home-views  of  the  Legislature's  doings,  of  the 
Qineral's  Intentions,  and  of  the  plans  of  ambitious  Uncle  Joshua.  Here  was  the  '  spot  of 
hi*  origin,'  and  around  ua  were  the  materials  from  which  be  drew  his  stores  of  instructive 
wit.  Therefore  we,  of  all  the  reading  public,  do  the  most  heartily  greet  his  reappearance. 
We  find  him  a  little  more  artistic  than  of  old,  more  advanced  in  grammar  and  orthography, 
but  withal  displaying  the  same  intimate  knowledge  of  Down  Eastdom,  and  retaining  the 
same  knack  of  genuine  Yankee  humor.  In  fact,  taking  all  things  together,  no  other 
writer  begins  to  equal  him  in  the  delineation  of  the  live  Yankee,  in  the  points  where  that 
individual  differs  from  all  the  '  rest  of  mankind.'  This  is  his  great  merit  as  an  author, 
and  one  which  the  progress  of  manners  will  still  further  heighten — for  it  is  only  in  some 
portions  of  our  own  State  that  the  real  Yankee  can  now  be  found. 

"  The  present  book  has  sixteen  chapters  devoted  to  home-stories.  They  are  racy  and 
humorous  to  a  high  degree." — Portland  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  It  is  now  generally  conceded  that  Seba  Smith  is  the  ablest,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  amusing  delineator  of  Yankee  life  who  has  hitherto  attempted  that  humorous  style 
of  writing — not  excepting  even  Judge  Haliburton  himself.  This  is  no  rash  expression,  for 
there  is  not  a  passage  in  '  Sam  Slick '  so  graphic,  funny  and  and  comical,  but  we  find 
equalled  if  not  surpassed  in  the  sensible  and  philosophic,  although  ludicrous  epistles,  of 
'  Major  Jack  Downing '—epistles  of  which  we  defy  the  most  stupid  to  glance  at  a  para 
graph  without  reading  the  whole." — Philadelphia  N&u>8. 

"  This  is  a  book  of  real  Yankee  life,  giving  the  particulars  of  character  and  incidents  in 
New  England,  from  the  Pilgrim  fathers  and  their  generations,  Connecticut  Blue  Laws,  and 
the  civic  and  religious  rules,  customs,  Ac.,  from  the  Nutmeg  State  away  down  East,  as  far 
as  Mr.  Jones  ever  thought  of  going.  It  is  a  very  laughable  affair,  and  every  family  in  all 
Yankeedom  will  enjoy  its  perusal." — ZTingham  (Mass.)  Journal. 

"  There  are  few  readers  who  do  not  desire  to  keep  up  an  acquaintance  with  the  original 
Major  Jack  Downing,  whose  peculiar  humor,  while  it  is  irresistible  in  its  effects,  is  nevei 
made  subservient  to  immorality.  But  these  stories  are  an  improvement  on  those  originally 
given  by  the  author,  as  they  are  illustrative  of  Yankee  life  and  character  in  the  good  ok. 
times  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers."—  Christian  Advocate  and  Journal, 

41  The  stories  are  the  most  humorous  in  the  whole  range  of  Yankee  literature,  full  of 
genuine  wit,  rare  appreciation  of  fun,  and  giving  an  insight  into  human  motive  which 
shows  the  close  observation  and  keen  relish  of  life,  of  a  good-humored  philosopher." — 
Saturday  Evening  Mail. 

"  A  charmingly  interesting  book,  this,  for  all  who  hail  from  Down  East,  or  who  like  to 
read  good  Kturies  of  home  life  among  the  Yankees." — Salon  Register 

13 


j.  c.  DERBY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


THE  GEEAT  DELUSION  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTTTRY. 


SPIRIT-RAPPING    UNVKILED  1 

AN  EXPOSE   OF  THE    ORIGIN,   HISTORY,   THEOLOGY,   AND  PHILOSOPHY 

OF    CERTAIN    COMMUNICATIONS  WITH    THE    SPIRIT    WORLD, 

BY     MEANS      OF     "SPIRIT-RAPPING,"      "MEDIUM 

WRITING,"    &C. 

BY  THE  REV.  H.MATISON,  A.  M. 

With  Illustrations.    A  new  edition,  with  an  Appendix,  containing  much 
additional  matter.    One  12mo  vol.,  price  75  cents. 

41  This  book  is  sufficient  to  make  any  man  cry,  if  it  did  not  make  him  laugh.  And  it 
has  made  us  laugh  heartily,  not  the  book  itself,  or  its  style,  but  the  subject  as  it  stands 
divested  of  the  miserable,  but  cunning  accessories  which  charlatans  have  wound  round 
It.  The  subject  is  completely  dissected,  body  and  bones,  if  anything  '  spiritual '  can  be 
said  to  have  those  human  necessaries.  It  is  strangled,  torn  asunder,  dragged  like  the 
less  hideous  Caliban  through  briars,  and  torn  on  the  inquisitorial  wheel  of  the  author's 
research,  shook  out  like  dust  from  a  Dutchman's  pipe,  swept  down  like  so  much  cobweb, 
riddled  like  the  target  of  a  crack  company,  and  altogether  '  used  up  ' — in  fact,  in  the 
words  of  Sir  Charles  Coldstream,  there  is  *  nothing  in  it.'  The  illustrations  are  very 
humorous  and  numerous,  and  the  printing  excellent." — National  democrat. 

"  Mr.  Matison  attacks  the  subject  at  its  advent  in  Rochester ;  scatters  the  '  Fox '  aud 
*  Fish  '  families  to  the  winds  with  his  pertinent  reasoning  and  well-directed  sarcasm; 
marks  its  progress,  upsetting  more  theories  than  the  spirits  ever  did  tables,  and  by 
copious  extracts  from  noted  'spiritual'  publications,  shows  the  pernicious  tendencies  of 
•the  new  philosophy,' exhibiting  more  deep-laid  villainy  than  even  its  most  inveterate 
enemies  had  supposed  it  capable  of  possessing." — Worcester  Palladium. 

"  It  is  decidedly  the  best  thipg  we  have  seen  on  the  subject.  It  is  a  book  of  keen  logic 
withering  satire,  and  unanswerable  facts.  He  has  stripped  to  absolute  nudity,  this  sys 
tem  of  delusion  and  infidelity ;  showing  its  abettors  to  be  composed  of  knaveo  and 
fools ! — deceivers  and  deceived.  Let  it  pass  round." — Pittsburgh  Christian  Advocate. 

"  We  can  only  heartily  and  confidently  recommend  it  to  our  readers,  as  thoroughly 
'  unveiling  '  the  latest  humbug  of  our  day,  showing  it  up  in  all  its  nakedness  and  defor 
mity,  and  leaving  us  nothing  more  to  desire  on  the  subject  of  which  it  treats." — 2f.  P. 
Church  Advocate  and  Journal. 

"This  Is  a  well  printed  volume  of  some  200  pages.  The  author  is,  of  course,  a 
disbeliever  in  modern  spiritualism,  and  the  book  is  the  result  of  his  investigations  of  the 
so-called  phenomenon.  It  gives  a  history  of  the  rise  of  spirit  knocking,  in  connection 
with  the  Fox  family,  and  its  progress  to  medium  writing,  table  tipping,  &c.  The  writer 
seems  to  have  performed  the  task  he  gave  himself  with  considerable  thoroughness  and 
great  industry.  We  commend  the  book  to  the  perusal  of  those  who,  unwilling  to  give  up 
common  sense  and  the  teachings  of  reason  and  philosophy,  have,  nevertheless,  found  in 
the  demonstrations  of  so-called  Spiritualism  much  that  they  have  been  unable  to  account 
for  except  upon  the  theory  of  the  '  Sp: ritualists  '  themselves."—  Troy  Whig. 


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